How Could I Forget?
by jenmc
Summary: An alternative starting point for Molly Dawes and Captain James. What if they met under entirely different circumstances? A memorable encounter leads to all kinds of trouble for the pair. M rated for smut in chapter 14.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello all! Firstly, thanks so much for your lovely reviews of Involved, and for the encouragement to write more! **

**Secondly, this is a new story that I've been thinking about for a while, but only just got the chance to get something down on paper. This is a prologue rather than a first chapter, and sets up the basic premise for the story - the next chapter will have a bit of a time jump. Not sure how often I will be able to update, but would love to hear what you think, and whether you would be interested to read more. **

**Characters, and any dialogue from Our Girl, are the property of Tony Grounds and the BBC.**

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Despite the English sun beating down on the military parade, Molly Dawes didn't feel the warmth. In comparison to the pounding heat of the desert from which she had just returned, this was nothing.

Her platoon surrounded her as they stood to attention, receiving medals for their recent tour of Afghanistan. It was Molly's first tour; and had been the toughest, most draining, but ultimately, the most rewarding six months of her entire life. Sure, she had been shit scared for most of it, but her training as a combat medic hasn't deserted her, and she really felt as if she had made a difference. She had come close to the edge of huge danger on a couple of occasions, including a covert mission to capture a Taliban target. That would go down as the most terrifying day ever, administering first aid to her Captain, who had been shot, whilst still under intense fire from insurgents. But, she had lived to tell the tale, as had the Captain.

Captain Geddings was one of life's good guys; his men, and Molly, adored him. Molly didn't think she could have lived with herself if he had bled out in front of her. She shook the dark thoughts from her head. Her section were complete, she had lived to tell the tale, and Captain Geddings, although injured, would make it. The mission had been a success.

She beamed as her medal was pinned to the lapel of her uniform, before receiving the shock of her life as Cpl Brown read out the medal citation in his hands.

"Our CO, Captain Geddings, injured on tour, wrote up a member of our section for an honour after an extraordinary act of courage."

Molly's ears pricked up, wondering what on earth this was about.

"Private Dawes has been recognised on the operational honours and awards list for her bravery and valour on Op Herrick."

_Oh Jesus Christ_. Molly felt her cheeks starting to burn. Although she had a reputation for being a bit gobby, she hated being made the centre of attention in this way. She could feel hundreds of eyes in the assembled friends and family audience boring into her as Corporal Brown continued.

"Captain Geddings was injured, and with no regard to her personal safety, she put his life before her own."

_Breathe, Molly. Deep breaths_. She willed the moment to be over already.

"To save a life while being willing to sacrifice your own, is above and beyond the call of duty. Her majesty, the Queen, has found it fitting to award Private Dawes the Military Cross."

Molly held her breath in shock; goosebumps prickled the back of her neck as she took in what had just happened. Spontaneous applause suddenly broke out around her as her colleagues and the audience voiced their congratulations. She was mortified. She had only been doing her job, not looking for a medal. Geddings was alive, that was all the thanks she needed.

Her eyes made their way to the proud, astonished faces of her family. Her mum had tears rolling down her face, pride radiating from her, whilst her dad was looking at the ground as he shook his head in amazement and applauded wildly, obviously trying to keep his emotions under control. Even Nan was crying! It was the first time she had seen such pride in her from her parents. They had been shocked and appalled when Molly volunteered for active duty, determined to talk her out of it. Now, she could see that they appreciated the change she had made to her life; to all of their lives. This was a moment to be proud of.

As they attended the drinks reception that followed the medal ceremony, Molly was taken aback by the individual pats on the back, handshakes and catcalls of congratulations from the members of her platoon. Although embarrassed, she was nonetheless proud of herself.

"Well look who it is, our very own hero!" Jackie Harris, one of her fellow combat medics, pulled her aside for a congratulatory hug. They had both been out in Afghan together. Sharing female quarters out in the desert had led to a firm friendship between the two women. Jackie was on her third tour, and had taken Molly under her wing at first while she acclimatised to Camp Bastion life. Her help had been invaluable; Molly doubted she would have made it without Jackie's support.

Molly's cheeks were crimson; she was overwhelmed and overawed by it all.

"Thanks Jac. This is all a bit much though, I was just doing my job after all."

"How did I know you would say that! Take praise where it's due Molls - we don't get much cause to celebrate in this line of work! Which is why, we're drinking tonight!"

"You what? You must have had a drink already, talking like that!"

"Now that's where you're wrong Molls. We've been given leave from barracks for a few hours tonight, a little welcome home present for our conquering hero. Just heard it from the Major himself. We, Molly Dawes, are having a night on the town" she beamed, a wide smile set firmly over her face.

Excitement bubbled in Molly's chest "You had better not be winding me up about this Jac. I've been dreaming of getting a vodka and coke in my hand for months! And dressing up! And dancing!". The prospect of getting out of the uniform she had been stuck in for the last 6 months was filling her with glee. She had been one of the lads for 6 months - she needed a chance to be Molly again, not _Private Dawes_, or _Medi_c.

"Well then, you'd better get those dancing shoes on!"

::::::

Captain Charles James nursed his beer at the tall table beside the bar, trying to appear interested in the conversation taking place around him as he mused on how exactly he had ended up in such an awkward position. His friend, and fellow officer, Chris Adams, had convinced him to join him that night for a 'quiet drink'. _The lying bastard_. He and Chris had been friends for as long as he could remember, their positions in the Army meaning that their paths crossed on many occasions. He should have known exactly what this night was going to entail. Chris was a ladies man; always had been, always would be. His idea of a meaningful relationship was the cleaner he employed to come to his flat every Friday morning. So Charles really shouldn't have been surprised when they were met by two women, dressed up to the nines, as soon as they entered the club.

The cheeky little fucker had set him up on a double date without telling him. He was 30 years old, a Captain in her majesty's army, a father. Yet he was sat here like a teenager without a clue how to talk to a woman.

The women made their excuses and disappeared to the ladies' together, obviously eager to gossip about how the night was going. He waited until they were out of earshot before he launched into his objections to Chris.

"A '_quiet drink_' Chris? Really?!" he was beyond bored by the whole thing. If his mother hadn't brought him up with pristine manners, he would have called it a night long before now.

"Oh calm the fuck down and start enjoying yourself Charles! If I'd told you, there's no way you would have come. You, my friend, are in desperate need of a shag." Charles snorted into his beer in disbelief as Chris continued "You're on leave, at a loose end. I'm performing a charitable service here, setting you up with a hot woman!"

"Oh for fuck's sake, not all of us are like you, you know. The ink is barely dry on my divorce papers. Give me a bloody chance!"

"Oh that old chestnut! Do me a favour, don't bring Rebecca into it. I'd be surprised if you were getting any action from her long before you split up anyway".

Charles shook his head in disbelief as the women made their way back to the table.

Chris was completely correct; he hadn't touched a woman in almost 18 months. But he was damned if he was going to admit it. He lowered his voice so that their companions didn't overhear as they returned. "Do me a favour, Chris? Shut the fuck up. And don't ever set me up again."

His date for the evening giggled as she sat back down in her chair. This was going to be a long night.

:::::::

Molly gulped down her first vodka and coke like she was still stuck in Bastion and dying of thirst. They had made their way to one of the nicer nightclubs in the centre of town. Jackie had been here before, and remembered the place for its killer cocktails and gorgeous barmen. Not a bad combination for a girls night out! They were determined to make it a night to remember, and they raised their first drinks together in celebration, giggling as the glasses clinked.

Happily, Molly's mum had brought a bag of goodies from home to allow her to prepare herself for the evening: she had thought of everything; make-up, straighteners, the lot.

It had been weird making an effort with her appearance for the first time in months. For the first time, she really appreciated the effect that the tour had on her body. Geddings was a stickler for harsh PT sessions, and had subjected the whole platoon to a 5k run in the stifling heat every morning. As a result, Molly was in the best shape of her life; toned from the physical exertion, and tanned from the scorching Afghan sun. She had chosen a little black dress that clung to her curves, and showed off the effects of all of her hard work. It had thick halterneck straps at the front, a dangerously low cut back, and showed off a serious amount of leg. Her look was finished off by a sweep of bronzer to even out her tan, thick waves in her long hair, and a pair of killer black heels. Even she had to admit that she looked 'the nuts'.

She had bypassed the other lads from her section on her way out the door. What an embarrassment that was! Their mouths hung open as she made her way past, catcalling all the way.

_"Fucking hell Molls, what you trying to do to us here!_

_"Check it out lads, its a model come to visit us at barracks!"_

_"Nice dress Molls, where's the rest of it!"_

"Shut it you fuckmuppets!" she called as she exited barracks. Although they were like little brothers, their comments had given her a confidence boost, and she had an added swing in her hips as she had made her way towards the door to meet Jackie.

Jackie laughed as Molly downed her first drink for over six months in two quick gulps.

"Bloody hell girl, steady! Remember we've been off it for 6 months! Don't want you passing out before we hit the dance floor!"

"Come on Jacs, we're out to let our hair down! Another?" Molly was getting into the swing of it now. She hadn't had a night out for as long as she could remember and was determined to make the most of it.

They headed for the bar, more than ready for another drink.

:::::

Charles couldn't keep his eyes off the woman who had suddenly appeared in front of them at the bar. He hadn't noticed her when they had arrived, but as soon as his eyes reached her, he hadn't been able to divert his gaze. His eyes ran over her incredible physique. She ticked every single box as far as he was concerned; long silky brunette hair in loose waves, beautiful skin, and a petite, athletic body with curves in all of the right places. She wore a skin tight black dress that clung to her body, showing a tantalising amount of leg. He gasped as she briefly turned her back to him and he caught sight of her bare back, the dress cut down in a cowl to the very base of her spine.

_Jesus Christ. She was beautiful._

He watched as her friend said something that made her giggle, and his heart nearly stopped beating in his chest at the sight of her gorgeous face breaking out into a smile. She spoke to the barman, who handed her two drinks, and then headed off to the dance floor with her friend.

He wasn't the only one who had noticed her; she had been approached by another man on the dance floor. He watched her make conversation with him, smiling and giggling as he spoke. Irrational flames of jealousy burned his insides at the interaction. It got worse though. He was trying to dance with her, making his way behind her to place his hands on her hips as they moved. Fuck. He almost growled as he took a considerable gulp of his drink. The part of him which had drunk three beers wanted to punch this guy in the face.

What the hell was wrong with him? He didn't even know this woman yet he was acting like an irrational caveman. His fists were clenched tightly as he watched them continue to dance, when suddenly, they stopped. She turned round, whispered something in the man's ear and rejoined her friend, laughing as she walked away. Relief flooded his body.

"Hello. Earth to Charles?" Chris interjected, waving his hand in front of him.

Suddenly it became apparent that he had been staring at this mystery woman for quite some time. Whilst on a date with somebody else, albeit reluctantly. Shit - what was that about having manners? Their companions for the night had left them, clearly realising that they were not wanted at the table.

"Well, thanks Charles, you managed to fuck that up spectacularly! If you're going to stare at another woman can't you at least do it discreetly like the rest of us?!" Chris fumed at his old friends' epic dating fail. "Who the fuck were you looking at anyway. Oh-" he trailed off, as Molly and Jackie made their way back to the bar and Charles resumed his hungry stare.

"She is beautiful. You won't mind if I approach, since, you know, '_the ink isn't dry on your divorce papers_', and '_you're not ready_'..." Chris teased, knowing he was about to hit the jackpot.

"Don't" Charles snapped. He shook his head, rethinking the tone of his response. "I'm sure she's here to have a good time, not to get chatted up by a creep like you."

"Charming. Ok. Well I think I might just introduce myself to her mate then. She's not too bad either, I must say." Chris smirked, a predatory look lighting his handsome features as he picked up his drink and made his way to the two women at the bar.

A deep knot of uneasiness formed in Charles stomach as he watched. He couldn't stand by and let this happen, he would have to stop Chris before this woman became one of his many one night stands. There was no way he could stand to watch his friend with his hands all over her. Chris had to be stopped.

He downed the remainder of his drink for courage, before slamming the glass back down. He had no idea what he was going to say, or do, but made his way over regardless.

:::::::

Molly closed her eyes and swayed along to the music in the bar, enjoying the warm buzz from the cocktail she had just drunk. It had been so very long since she had felt so relaxed. She looked good, and she definitely felt good. Some idiot had come along and tried to chat her up, giving her the usual cheesy lines about how she was the most beautiful girl in the room. She had indulged him by dancing for a few minutes, but in all honesty he wasn't doing it for her.

It wasn't only alcohol that she had been forced to abstain from out on tour; she hadn't had any male attention in what felt like forever. Not since a couple of encounters while she was on basic with one of the guys she was training with. It had gotten messy; he was more interested than she was, and she swore to herself that she would never get involved with an army colleague again. Work and her love life were definitely best kept separate. She could do with some male attention. She was a woman; she had needs! But nobody in this place was doing it for her.

As she swayed along to the beat of the music, her eyes met with those of the man making his way over to her and Jackie.

He was tall, nicely built, with a crown of blond hair and blue eyes. He was pretty fit, and he obviously knew it. She laughed as one of Nan's tried and tested phrases came to mind.

'_If he was chocolate, he'd eat himself!'_

Never was the phrase more apt. The man threaded his way toward them, his destination obvious. As she tried to think of a cutting response to warn him off, her attention was suddenly diverted to another man, steaming up behind to speak to him.

_Oh. My. God._

He was _gorgeous_. Tall and slim, just on the right side of muscular, with dark, wavy hair and perfect lips that Molly instantly felt the urge to kiss. He was smartly dressed, in a blue shirt and dark jeans. She was staring without even realising.

At that moment, he looked up from the heated discussion he was obviously having with his friend. Their eyes met. Her jaw dropped as their gazes crossed paths. His eyes were amazing. They were the deepest colour of chocolate brown. And they were staring at her with the same look of hunger that she currently felt.

He made his way over to her, their eye contact never faltering as he moved. Jesus, even the way he moved was gorgeous. He looked nervous on his final approach, biting his bottom lip as he made the last few steps to where she stood. She held her breath with anticipation.

"Hi" he breathed, his tone low and husky.

Suddenly, she was tongue tied, her face burning as she hoped to god that he couldn't read her mind. What could she say to him?'

"Hi"

This was awkward, they couldn't stop staring at each other, both unsure of what to say. In a split second, Molly had made her decision. She grabbed his hand, and led him toward the dance floor. At least they could dance rather than awkwardly watch each other.

As soon as they touched, all bets were off. She let go of his hand, turning round to face him. He looked down as she weaved her arms round his neck, both swaying in time to the music. He placed his hands on her hips, pulling her even closer to him and taking care to close any tiny gap of space between them as their moulded bodies moved in perfect time to the rhythm of the song.

His hands moved round to her back, one hand weaving its way through her long hair, and the other resting on the bare skin exposed at the base her spine by her dress. He rubbed the soft skin gently with his fingers as they moved together.

Neither had any concept of how much time passed as they moved together; a couple of songs had played, but neither cared, both lost in their own world.

Molly was entirely captivated by this gorgeous man who held her in his arms. The looks he was giving her were a curious mix of tenderness and deep hunger; he seemed to flicker between the two intermittently. She knew she had only one expression; and that was serious lust. She was desperate for him to make a move and kiss her. The combination of the long months of loneliness on tour, and the way this man was looking at her was a lethal cocktail. She wanted him, badly.

She didn't have to wait long for him to make a move. He had been silently trying to talk himself out of this as they moved. It wasn't his style, he was an adult, a recently divorced one at that. What was he doing picking up some girl who looked at least ten years younger than him in a nightclub? But none of his sensible arguments could stack up against the way he felt with this girl in his arms. He couldn't force his body to listen to reason.

He could eventually hold out no longer. His hand moved from her hair to her face, caressing the smooth skin on her face as he studied those green eyes, heavy with what he recognised as lust. He lowered his mouth to hers as they continued to move.

It had been intended as a tender kiss, but her response to the feel of her mouth on his floored him. She hungrily accepted him as she deepened the kiss, drawing his tongue firmly into her mouth as she continued to hold her arms at the back of his neck, playing with the fine hairs on the nape of his neck.

He wasn't in control of his hands any more. They wandered over every part of her body that he could reasonably get away with in the middle of a crowded nightclub, and eventually came to rest on her bare back again. One of Molly's hands had wandered from his neck to explore under his shirt. As she felt the taut muscles which his under there she moaned even further into the kiss. It felt like his hands were on fire, burning into her bare skin.

They were lost in a world of their own, exploring each other when it all came crashing down. Literally.

The sound of smashing glass broke the moment as the music stopped and the overhead lights came glaring to full beam. The moment had passed and they pulled apart, chests heaving with breathlessness, still staring at each other.

Another bang came from the commotion in the corner. This time, Charles swung round to figure out what was going on.

_Oh shit. Chris._

His friend had been pulled into a headlock by another customer at the bar, and they tumbled head first towards the bar, punches being thrown as they moved. He was torn, not wanting to step away from her for a second, before common sense prevailed. He reluctantly ran away from Molly, towards the scene of chaos to try and extract Chris before he got himself killed.

As he ran, he turned to her, stumbling an apology as he moved. He passed Jackie, who was making her way urgently towards Molly, panic obvious in her tone as she looked at her watch.

"Molls! I've been looking for you everywhere! We were due back at Barracks half an hour ago. We need to go!"

"But-" she stuttered as she searched him out in the crowd. He was nowhere to be seen. She was shaking, full of the nervous energy that had suddenly been snuffed out, no chance to be expressed in his arms. Her legs wobbled unsteadily beneath her. _Where was he?!_

Jackie dragged her from the club as her eyes continued to seek him out.

_He was gone._

:::::

After eventually retrieving Chris from the fistfight he had managed to get involved in, he returned, eyes desperately seeking the woman who was ingrained in his consciousness. He scanned the crowd in the nightclub, desperate to find her once again.

His heart thumped wildly in his chest at the prospect of finding her, until he realised it was a futile search.

_She was gone_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks so much to everyone for the amazing response to chapter 1 - you lot are brilliant! Your lovely reviews are a really good motivation to get moving with this story, so thanks! **

**We have jumped forward 6 months for the next chapter. There isn't much interaction between our two favourite characters in this one, so please don't be disappointed! Your patience will be rewarded! Please let me know what you think! **

::::::::::

"Remind me again why we're back here?" Chris looked sheepish as he returned to the scene of his ill-judged brawl six months previously.

Charles ignored him as he stood at the wooden bar, ordering two drinks from the young barmaid as he furtively scanned the room.

He had become a regular in the place; whenever he could get away from barracks, he returned. He told himself it was because he liked the place. It was a lie; he couldn't stand it. It reminded him of how out of control his once regimented brain had become. But she might be here. So he came, always keeping an eye out for his mystery woman.

His furtive looks weren't secret enough, and Chris suddenly clicked. "Oh for fuck's sake Charles! Please don't tell me you're still hung up on this bloody woman! How many times have I told you?!"

"Well I wouldn't have lost her in the first place, if I hadn't had to rescue somebody from getting his arse kicked, would I? And anyway, I'm not hung up on her. I like this place" he looked, downcast , into his drink. He was a miserable liar. Even Chris had to take pity on him.

"Listen mate, it's understandable that you're acting a bit weird after this. She was the first woman you got even remotely close to banging after Rebecca. I get that." Charles shook his head at his friends' clumsy attempts to understand. He didn't get it. At all.

Chris continued regardless "Charles, you don't know the first thing about this girl. You don't even know her name. This isn't fucking Cinderella, there's no glass slipper. You're not going to find her, she could be anywhere."

Chris was right about that part at least. Rationally, Charles knew that. It had been a one-off, something to chalk up to experience. But he couldn't stop thinking about it.

_About her._

Those green eyes flashed through his mind every day. He dreamt about her most nights, always waking up aroused, as if he was a teenage boy once more. He doubted he would ever forget a single detail about her for as long as he lived, especially not the way she had made him feel as he held her in his arms. Every single day he regretted that he had let her go without getting any details from her that would help him find her again. He hadn't even asked her name.

He was torn from his thoughts by Chris again, trying to help. "You need to get out on tour, have something else to think about. How long is it until you deploy anyway?"

"Next week"

"Good. Six months obsessing about some hot girl that you _almost _managed to pick up, is six months too many. Bastion will get your focus back."

Chris was right. He certainly wasn't going to find her in the middle of the desert. Going on tour would force him to focus -  
>his life, and the lives of his soldiers depended on it. He had one more week of training to take his men through before they got on that plane. Then he would get his head straight, once and for all.<p>

::::::::

The platoon moved with astounding synchronicity as they began the training exercise. Their six months of hard training had borne fruit; they were a well-oiled machine in advance of completing their upcoming tour of Afghanistan. The exercise began smoothly enough; a mock re-enactment of a scene which they would inevitably have to face when they reached their eventual destination. Charles' men gathered in position as they fired rounds at the mock enemy.

Suddenly, the line between fiction and reality was blurred as agonising screams came from the field. Private Rodgers, the medic for 2 section, was clearly in trouble, laid out on the ground screaming in agony. This was not part of the exercise. Charles, watching from his observation spot, instantly knew that something had gone very wrong. He called over the radio, screaming for the exercise to be brought to a halt, and sprinted towards the stricken man.

Rodgers was a mess. His leg had snapped like a twig, a flowing river of blood surrounding it, and the broken bone apparent through the skin. Charles felt an instant wave of nausea at the sight and tried to contain his heaving stomach as he attempted to help. The soldier was trembling violently, and whilst the screams had stopped, he was obviously going into shock from his injuries. Whilst Charles had basic first aid training as an Army requirement, he was way out of his depth with this.

"We need medics on the ground! Now! This is not an exercise!" he ordered, screaming down his radio headset, as he racked his brain to try and think what else to do. Within seconds, they were surrounded by the remaining members of the platoon, and the duty medics from the training ground. They worked quickly to move Rodgers to a stretcher, and whisked him to the military hospital.

The speed with which they moved was astonishing. Within ten minutes of the end of the exercise, the assembled platoon members were gathered on the training field, wondering how on earth they were going to leave for Afghanistan in two days without their trusted medic.

Charles was well aware of the importance of the role. The medic was a key cog in the running of the platoon from day to day; without them, the whole thing could come crashing down. It was vital that he had somebody he could entrust the lives of his men with, not to mention his own life. A knot formed in his stomach. His men had trained together as a tight unit for six months. Rodgers' injury would undoubtedly mean that they would need a replacement, at extremely short notice. He knew from bitter experience that this would probably mean a rookie joining the platoon. This was an absolute disaster. It had all been going so well, preparations at barracks had been ideal so far - he should have known that something would go badly wrong.

:::::::

"Wake up Molly!"

"Wake up!"

She was awoken from her broken sleep by her youngest brother bouncing on her legs, jumping with childish joy when he realised that his big sister was finally awake and able to play with him. Despite her tiredness, she smiled at the unbridled innocence on his face. How she wished she could transport herself back to a time where everything was so simple.

She had been on leave for almost 4 months, and the boredom was tormenting her. Following her return from tour, she had carried on at Barracks for a couple of months, furthering her army experience with her platoon there. When she had been dismissed on leave, it was on the premise that she would return to Camp Bastion with her section within a year. That meant she could potentially have another 8 months until she was back on the tarmac at Brize Norton. She let out a deep sigh as the thought occurred to her. She had returned home to her mum and dad in east London, another thing that was driving her nuts. Living in cramped quarters with her 5 siblings and parents was enough to drive her to the edge.

Molly needed to be back on active service, she craved it. Without the focus of day to day life on tour, she had way to much free time to think; to ponder on what-if's. There were a lot of what-if's tormenting her.

_And they were all to do with him.  
><em>  
>Try as she might, she hadn't been able to stop thinking about that night. She dreamt about it so much that she often wondered if she had imagined the whole thing. When she closed her eyes at night, all she could think about was the memory of his warm hands touching her.<p>

She was used to the memories now, it was part of her day to day life. He—whatever his name was—had been in her thoughts ever since that encounter in the club on one of her first nights back from tour. At first she had thought that her preoccupation with him would fade with time, but she was wrong.

Over six months later, she was still dreaming of him at night; she ached to feel him touching her when she lay in bed at night, alone. Their encounter had been mind-blowing for her. She could still picture every detail of him, from his dark unruly hair to his amazing eyes. She could remember his scent, clean and masculine. She could still remember the connection she'd felt to him. She'd never felt anything like that before.

She knew it was insane; that she needed to move past it. He probably didn't even remember her, never mind think about her. He was a good looking guy in a club; he probably picked up a different girl every time he was out. She was only focussing on this because she was on leave, with too much time on her hands. Once she was back on tour she would be able to get her head back on straight and get some proper distance and focus. The constant fear of death had a way of putting things in perspective like that - the Taliban weren't going to take any pity on a lovesick idiot, were they?! The only problem was that she still had so much time still to go. She wished she could pack it all up there and then, and head to Brize with her bergen in tow.

She was ripped from her thoughts by the shrill ring of her mobile phone. It flashed "_Private Caller_". Who the hell was that, phoning her at this time of the morning? She answered hesitantly.

"Hello"

"Well if it isn't my favourite medic!" Molly was delighted to hear what sounded like Captain Geddings on the other end of the call.

"Boss? Is that you?"

The last time she had seen him was that awful moment when he was pulled into the sky by the MERT on the day he was shot. He had been flown back to a UK hospital, stayed there for weeks afterwards, and then as far as she knew, had been stuck at Headley for rehab. She had heard on the grapevine that he was back, working behind a desk, and had meant to get in touch for a while. He had gotten in there first though.

"It sure is Dawes. How's it going? Getting used to normal again?"

"Not really boss, it's doin' my nut in if I'm honest. How's that desk job treating you?"

"Let's just say you're not the only one who's having their nut done in Dawesy. Anyway, that's part of the reason I'm phoning."

"Not just a social call then! Should have known you were after something sir!"

"Well, before I get to that Dawes, there's something I need to say." He suddenly sounded nervous.

"Boss?"

"I owe you one Dawes. I never got the chance to say thanks to you."

"Don't, boss. Honestly. I was doing my job. I wouldn't have been able to forgive myself if you'd snuffed it on my watch."

The silent moment that followed was awkward, both wondering how to break the sudden, darker atmosphere. Molly spoke first, remembering that he had phoned for another reason.

"Go on then boss, what is it you're after then?". The tension was broken.

"It's not me that's after anything Dawes. Major Beck's got me calling every fucking medic in the book right now. I've got a list as long as my arm here" he complained.

"Why, what's happened?" her ears pricked at the prospect of making herself useful.

"Some daft prick who was meant to despatch to Bastion tomorrow's gone and busted his leg up badly in a training exercise. They need a last minute casualty replacement. I told him you wouldn't be interested, but he asked me to give you a call and ask anyway. So I'll stick you-"

She interrupted before he could finish his sentence, rushing the words out before he could withdraw the offer.

"I'll do it"

This was it._ Her ticket out of here_. She could finally engage her brain on something other than her mystery man. She could focus. She jumped from her tiny bed, ready to move on with her life. She would get her head straight, once and for all.

::::::

Charles had been summoned to Major Beck's office to discuss the Rodgers situation. It was the day before deployment, and he was beginning to feel the usual pre-tour nerves kicking in. This setback with Rodgers wasn't helping the nervousness that always plagued him before the start of any tour. The lives of 21 men depended on him. Even worse, the majority of them were on their first tour, fresh faced and barely out of their teens; they had been dubbed the "Under Fives" for good reason. They needed a strong, confident leader.

He knocked and waited for the Major to respond. When he called for Charles to enter, he was surprised to find him in such good spirits; usually these last minute setbacks and re-deployment of personnel were a nightmare, and he wondered why there wasn't more stress showing in the older man's face.

"Ah. Sit down Charles. I have some good news, and some bad news."

"Sir?" he was intrigued about anything good that could come of this situation.

"Let's start with the bad, although it won't come as a shock. Rodgers has completely buggered his leg. He needs an operation, and a pin inserted to hold it back together. He's going to be out of action for at least six months."

Charles hung his head at the news; he was expecting it, but he knew the effect this would have on his colleague – six months of intensive treatment and rehabilitation for an injury sustained before he even reached the warzone would flatten him.

"I'm intrigued to know which part of this is going to be good news, Sir?"

"Well. Don't say we aren't good to you Charles, because I have managed to find you a top-notch medic to take his place, even with only 24 hours' notice."

Chalres hadn't realised how nervous he felt until he let out a breath of relief on hearing this news. A smile lit up his features, relief restoring his furrowed brow to a far more relaxed level. The Major continued.

"Private Dawes, 2nd Regiment. She returned from Afghan 6 months ago, but has volunteered to re-deploy with you."

"That's wonderful news, Sir." He was genuinely delighted. He had expected the Major to land him with some rookie, fresh out of basic.

"I haven't finished yet. Top brass are seriously impressed with this girl. She was awarded the Military Cross on her first tour; she saved the life of her Captain whilst under fire, before taking the target out herself with a pistol. She was also mentioned in dispatches on several occasions for her efforts on other missions. They think she could be Officer material. She is a very valuable asset, and I am putting my faith in you to ensure that she remains on track."

"Of course Sir"

"I'm serious about this Charles. She's still young, and you know the usual shenanigans that happen on tour. I expect you to keep a close eye on her, make sure she is beyond reproach. If anything happens to get in the way of her progression, it will be me who ultimately ends up taking the fall for it. Understood?"

He did understand. As soon as Beck had volunteered the information that Dawes was a young woman, he immediately knew the difficulties that would ensue. It was difficult at the best of times marshaling a group of hormonal young men who were without their friends and families, without adding a lone female to the mix. On tour, your section became your family, and it was often difficult for young, impressionable squaddies to avoid becoming involved with each other. The toxic mix of hormones, loneliness and adrenaline was often a difficult one.

Not for him though. He didn't do emotional involvement.

_Except for her_, the persistent voice in his head nagged.

He wished that voice would shut up.

:::::::

Within 24 hours of Geddings' phone call, Molly's life had turned upside down. She said her goodbyes to her parents and her Nan. None of them had been able to understand why she had volunteered for this tour; they thought she had a screw loose, choosing to go back before she had to.

She remained undeterred. This was her chance to move on, and forget about her infatuation with a mystery stranger that she would never see again. Although she was nervous about the tour, adjusting to a new platoon, and a new section, it was a good kind of nervous. She travelled to Brize Norton with a spring in her step, ready and prepared for whatever challenge faced her.

As she entered the grey brick building where she would meet her new colleagues, she took a minute to stop and enjoy the build-up of adrenaline she was feeling at that moment. She was scared of what the next few months could potentially hold, but full of anticipation for the experience she was about to have.

She reported, as instructed, to the front desk. Major Beck had called her personally to thank her for her efforts in volunteering; and had told her that she would be joining 2 section, under Corporal Kinders and Captain James. She had gotten so lucky with her bosses on her first tour that she wondered if she could possibly be so lucky again.

Upon reporting for duty, two men addressed her. This must be them; the younger man was shorter, but built like a true soldier, all muscle. He had a shaved head and the smoothest, darkest skin. He watched her with a kind smile, and she immediately warmed to him. The other man, who she assumed must be the Captain, took her hand in a firm handshake.

"Private Dawes, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Major Beck, we spoke on the telephone yesterday."

"Sir" she stood firmly to attention as she spoke.

"I really must say thank you again for volunteering to help us out of this sticky spot at such short notice. I must introduce you to Captain James" he said, looking around the room to invite Charles to join them.

:::::::

It was the morning of departure, and Charles was incredibly tense. The apprehension which inevitably preceded every tour was building inside of him. He took 5 minutes in the washroom to compose himself; splash cold water on his face, adjust his beret, and ensure that he had painted on the most stern of expressions. This is what it was all about. He had to walk out of the room and show that he had this, that he was a leader. The lives of his men depended on it.

As he made his way towards his platoon, he noticed Major Beck and Corporal Kinders standing to the side, chatting with what he could only assume was the new medic. She stood beside them, all of five foot tall. She was bloody tiny! As he got closer to the group of three, he heard her let out a giggle at something one of the men had said.

The sound made his heart plummet to his feet.

He looked closer, and could have sworn he stopped breathing. The pieces of a jigsaw puzzle whirred in his brain as they suddenly fell and slotted together. _Click, click, click.  
><em>  
><em>It can't be.<br>_  
>This was a joke. There was no way. He must be going crazy. That was it—he'd finally reached the point where he was so consumed by her that he was starting to imagine seeing her in places where she could not possibly be. He was actually going crazy.<p>

He closed his eyes and counted to ten, willing himself to get a grip, then opened them again.

_Oh Fuck._

_It was her._


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi everybody - have had lots of requests to let you all know what happens next - sorry to leave you hanging with the last chapter. Hope you enjoy! I'm so grateful for all of your lovely comments about this story - I really hope I can do it justice (will have a good shot at it anyway!).**

**Reviews are always appreciated! **

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_This was a joke. There was no way. He must be going crazy. That was it—he'd finally reached the point where he was so consumed by her that he was starting to imagine seeing her in places where she could not possibly be. He was actually going crazy._

_He closed his eyes and counted to ten, willing himself to get a grip, then opened them again._

_Oh Fuck._

_It was her._

_..._

He had only seconds to register that fact before Major Beck caught sight of him in the crowd and called his name, beckoning him towards the group. He jumped slightly as the call from Beck broke his slack-jawed stare of disbelief.

"Captain James, over here."

He tried desperately to gather his thoughts as he made his way towards them, head facing the ground, forcing himself to put one foot in front of the other as he moved closer and closer. Of all the hundreds of ways and scenarios he had imagined and fantasised that he could meet her again, this one had never, ever, crossed his mind. He couldn't think straight, couldn't focus. He made the final steps to join them, and the movement somehow seemed to fix the short circuit in his brain.

_Get a grip, you idiot. You're an Officer in Her Majesty's Army. You're a professional. Fucking introduce yourself. She probably doesn't even remember you. You're just a one-off, from over six months ago. She's here to work. You're here to work._

Repeating that mantra in his brain to keep his sanity, he tried his hardest to muster a completely neutral smile. He looked up. Her green eyes instantly met his, and his entire world stopped turning. They were just as he remembered, the same eyes he dreamt of constantly. He ignored the ache in his limbs and presented his hand to the woman who he had longed for every day and every night for six long months. He ignored every single cell in his body screaming at him, and treated her like a complete stranger.

"Private Dawes?" he asked, extending his hand so that she could shake it. He took her small hand firmly in his own, and an adrenaline rush unlike anything Charles had felt since that night invaded his body. He was fighting to maintain steady breaths as his eyes met hers yet again. The memory of the first time he'd taken her hand—as she led him across a dance floor—flashed to the front of his mind. She paused for what seemed like a few seconds too long, or was he just imagining it?

"Sir" she addressed him finally, shaking his hand, holding it for just a second longer than normal, before letting it go.

Charles ignored the completely irrational sense of loss he felt when he was no longer touching her, forcing himself to maintain some sort of detachment whilst his body screamed at him. "It's nice to meet you Dawes. Thank you for helping us out in these difficult circumstances."

His mind taunted him, flashing back to images in that club of them moving together, pressed against each other, his hands on her hips, then winding through her hair. He knew his hands had already teased the outline of her breasts through her tight dress; he had caressed the bare skin on her back with just his fingers, and been desperate to touch every single inch of her. He forced the images from his mind; pretended they had never happened.

Their eyes met again, and he instantly knew from the look on her face.

_She remembers._

Her eyes were just as beautiful, just as expressive as they were in his memories, and he could see the look of recognition in them as she stared at him for just longer than was normal for two strangers meeting for the first time in a professional capacity. Her gaze had turned hot as her eyes moved downward, roaming his body.

He was desperate to say something, to give her some indication to let her know that he had been thinking about her for months, that she was far more gorgeous now than in his dreams, that he would happily give his right arm if it meant that he could spend some time getting to know her.

But he didn't. _He couldn't._ He was at a complete loss as to what to do next. He tried his damnedest to maintain a professional facade, to keep control. Professional was the last thing he wanted to be with her. He'd always thought that if he was lucky enough to ever see her again, he would pursue her. He would charm and flirt and persuade his way into a date with her. It had never crossed his mind that he would meet her in a professional setting. Words failed him. Instead, he excused himself with a pitiful excuse about having to gather the men for a photograph, and walked away.

:::::::::::::::::::

Molly had been making small talk with Corporal Kinders about her previous tour when suddenly the Major began to call Captain James over to introduce them. She was really nervous, keen to make the right first impression. She hadn't done that with Geddings, and still winced when she remembered the first impression she had given him - of a gobby little girl. It had taken her weeks to get him to warm up to her. She wouldn't be doing that again in a hurry. First impressions were important.

"Captain James, over here"

She suddenly saw his tall figure, striding towards them through a break in the crowd of squaddies, looking at the ground as he moved. She froze, eyes scanning him. She knew him.

_No._

_It couldn't possibly be._

There was no way. She had finally lost the plot - she had pictured running into him on so many occasions that she had resorted to hallucinations to get her fix of him. She was turning into a lunatic. She forced herself to look again, to prove to herself that she was wrong.

_Oh Fuck._

_It was him._

The realisation hit her like a short sharp shock. Her heart pounded in her chest as it all began to fall into place. The closer he moved to the group, the faster her heart pounded. She was struggling to breathe as she tried to take it in. He closed the gap between them and looked up for the first time, straight into her eyes. As soon as their gazes met, and she looked into his dark brown eyes, she felt the world spin on its axis. They were just as she remembered, the same eyes that she dreamt of constantly. He was smiling, but the smile was hollow and didn't reach his eyes. She knew what his real smile looked like, and this wasn't it.

Her mind was blank, mouth dry, no appropriate words able to venture from her mouth. In contrast, a tone of professionalism radiated from him as he addressed her. She knew she had to stop staring at him. She needed to get a grip. Quickly.

Private Dawes?" he asked, extending his hand. She accepted the handshake, feeling like the contact between their skin was burning her already flushed body. She couldn't find her grounding, and held his hand for a beat longer than would usually be considered acceptable before she let go. She thought she saw something flash in his eyes; some form of emotion he was trying to disguise, but it was gone in an instant.

"Sir" she said finally. Her voice was shaky, she couldn't calm herself down. If he noticed, he was ignoring it. He looked completely focussed and calm.

"It's nice to meet you Dawes. Thank you for helping us out in these difficult circumstances." As he spoke, the memory of his tongue in her mouth and her hand exploring greedily under his shirt as they swayed to the beat of the music suddenly flashed through her mind. Before she could stop herself, she felt herself look him up and down hungrily as the memory resurfaced. She tried desperately to keep a lid on it. She could not force herself to launch any more words from her mouth.

She could see that he was the opposite. Everything about his tone stated one hundred percent professional. There was no hint of surprise or recognition.

_He doesn't remember._

She didn't know whether she was completely crushed or relieved, and she didn't have any time to consider it fully. She must be one of many women who he should have no particular reason to remember. Before she could properly compose and gather herself, he had excused himself. As he turned on his heel and walked away, she felt like she had taken a punch.

::::::::::::::::::

Molly was in shock. She could barely believe what had just happened. Before she had any chance to consider it, she was being introduced to the members of her new section. She recognised one of them as well; she had the dubious honour of meeting Smurf on a days break from basic, when she and her mates had decided to take full advantage and spend the day in the pub to celebrate the rare day off. Smurf had been lingering with some pals, obviously delighted at the prospect of a table of tipsy girls to give his incredibly cheesy pick up lines to. He wasn't her cup of tea, but her mate Katie had inevitably ended up having a knee-trembler with him round the back of the Indian takeaway next door. As far as she knew, Katie had never heard from him again. Obviously, picking up random women and proceeding to completely forget them was a habit which was common to these guys.

She still flushed with embarrassment and downright mortification that he obviously didn't remember her. _Captain James-_he now had a name. For so many months he had been a nameless ghost in her memories. She had built him up so much in her head, envisaged so many different scenarios where she would meet him again, that she was totally deflated to know that he hadn't thought of her at all. He must have loads of women on the go; one look at him would be enough to tell you that he could have any woman he wanted. He looked like a bloody model in an army uniform, how many more boxes do you need ticking than that?!

She was drawn from her thoughts by Smurf's incessant chatter. To his credit, he had at least remembered meeting her on that drunken day. He was trying to come out with some bullshit about how he'd meant to call Katie back. Molly held back a laugh at that one; from her description of the encounter, she didn't think Katie would have been answering that call anyway! But this guy obviously thought he was a ladies man, so she let him have it without comment. Until he stepped it up a notch, trying to act the big man in front of his colleagues.

"You know, you stand out in my memory from that day. Best looking girl in your section, without a doubt" he looked her up and down with a glint in his eye.

"That right, is it mate?" she was already beyond pissed off from the encounter with the captain, and this wasn't helping.

"Oh yeah. Things could have been so different you know. If I'd have chosen you, who knows where we would have ended up."

"Lucky escape for me then, eh?"

"What you on about?" Smurf appeared to be genuinely mystified that she wasn't falling at his feet, which meant she was going to enjoy this even more.

"You forget Smurf - women talk. And let's just say mate, the reviews weren't exactly positive" she wiggled her pinky at him knowingly while the rest of the lads launched into uproarious laughter and jeers.

"Proper rinsed mate! Proper rinsed."

"Dawesy got you there pal!"

"I knew there was a reason you didn't shower with the rest of us Smurfoid!"

Molly felt a little bad; she could have sworn that even the tips of his ears were pink with embarrassment. She knew from experience though, that she had to demonstrate from day 1 that she could handle herself, or else the rest of the lads would think she was fair game.

She could see Captain James talking to the Major and tried not to let her own embarrassment over that situation subsume her. She had to push him from her mind and concentrate on the task at hand. He clearly hadn't given her a second thought, so she would extend the same courtesy to him. She would not think about him. She definitely wouldn't think about him touching her. Or kissing her. Or running his hands all over her body like he wanted to tear her clothes from her body. Nope, _definitely_ wouldn't think about it. _At all_. She took one last look at him, just to confirm that she would wipe the whole thing from her memory. Their eyes met briefly again, from across the room.

She felt her entire body tingle with need for him.

_Christ, she was fucked._

:::::::::::

Charles stood surveying the scene as she met the lads from 2 section. His mind was working overtime as he tried to contain himself. _Molly Dawes_. It was her. Chris had taken to referring to her as Cinderella to wind him up. But now she had a name. _Molly Dawes. _How the hell was he meant to be her boss, when all he wanted to do was walk across the room, take her in his arms, and do all kinds of things to her?

It wasn't helping that Smurf was evidently trying his luck with her. He could see, even from a distance, that he was giving her the full cheeky welsh boy routine that worked pretty well for him. He knew that she could handle herself though, and when she evidently rinsed him in front of all of the lads, he couldn't help but feel a swell of pride in his chest at his girl.

Except she wasn't his girl, and he had to stop thinking of her like that. There were all sorts of thoughts swirling round his brain that he also shouldn't be having, and he actually groaned when he had to bite back the memory of kissing her hungrily, tongues in each other's mouths while her hands clung to the nape of his neck. Beck ripped him from his memory as he joined him, watching the group intently.

"Glad to see you're keeping your eye on her, although she does seem to be able to handle herself rather well" he was also watching Molly as she ripped the piss out of Smurf.

_Busted_. He cleared his throat, hoping desperately that it would also clear his mind before responding.

"Yes Sir. Even so, I'll keep an eye on the situation" he knew that he would have his eyes on her for all kinds of reasons, none of them being professional.

He couldn't allow himself to think of her as Molly. _That was it_. She was Private Dawes, and they were both here to do a job. He was a grown man, he would wipe this from his mind. He wouldn't think about the amazing body that he knew hid under that uniform, or the way her hair looked when it wasn't tied tightly in a French braid. He most definitely wouldn't think about how it felt to have her tongue exploring in his mouth, or her soft moans as he touched her. Or the way it felt when he ran his fingers through her hair. _Nope_. He absolutely wouldn't think about how soft the skin was at her spine, where he had caressed her with his fingers, moving lower and lower, and wanting to go much further.

Because that, would be suicide.

He looked up at her once again, to demonstrate that he could do this; he could forget about her. She was looking over at the same time, and their eyes met briefly. It took substantial effort for him to continue to breathe evenly.

_He was completely and utterly screwed._

::::::::::::::::::::::


	4. Chapter 4

**AN - Thanks again for all of your lovely words of encouragement - they really do keep me going. I haven't made a start on the next chapter yet, but will try not to leave you hanging too long. Hope you enjoy - please R&R!**

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Molly woke early, sunlight beginning to filter into the female quarters, and the sounds of Camp Bastion starting to roar into action for the day ahead. They had been here for almost two weeks. If she thought time had gone slowly stuck at home with only time to think of _him_, she was wrong. Being stuck with the real life version of him, with no way of expressing how she felt, was even more torturous than the memory of him.

The situation with the boss was driving her to the very edge. She had been in his company just about every day since their arrival, always in the company of others, never alone. He barely even acknowledged her existence, and certainly hadn't given her any indication whatsoever that he remembered her; that she was _even vaguely_ familiar to him. Still, she couldn't help the feeling of butterflies that formed in her stomach whenever she saw him. Sometimes, on just the briefest of occasions, she could swear that she detected a hint of attraction from him, but it was always gone as quickly as it appeared.

The first time had been during the first couple of days. He had subjected them all to the PT session from hell. She was wearing her army regulation shorts and t-shirt. Not exactly sexy, but baring the most flesh that she had since arrival. As they had completed the 10k run that finished the session, he watched them from the finish line, glowering, with the most miserable expression on his face. She looked more closely at him, and could have sworn that she detected a hint of lust in his gaze as he watched her; his eyes had darkened, and she realised at that moment that she recognised the expression. For just the briefest of seconds, it was exactly the same as it had been that night; dark and intense, clouded with want. But then, as quickly as she recognised it, the look was gone, replaced by an impassive mask. She was left to wonder if she had imagined the whole thing.

Inappropriate as it was, she continued to think about him whenever she couldn't busy herself with other tasks. Her mind frequently wandered to thoughts that she really, _really _should not be having about her boss. _About his hands_. _And his lips_. _And his fingers_. _And his tongue_. And various other parts of him that she definitely shouldn't be thinking about. She was busy getting herself a drink from the mess tent early one evening, a few days ago when she caught him leaving the gym after a workout. His T-shirt was soaked to the bone with sweat, hair damp with perspiration. She watched him from afar pulling the t-shirt from his body as he headed to his quarters. She knew she was staring, but she couldn't find the focus to draw her eyes away from their target. He pulled the wet cloth over his head, his chest glistening underneath it, exposing his perfect torso to her gaze. He was just on the right side of well-built. Not a scary amount of muscle, just toned, and fit.

Molly knew it was incredibly dangerous to keep watching from afar, but she did. She licked her lips unknowingly as she watched him move. His trousers hung low on his hips, and her mouth watered at the thought. She had committed the way his stomach and chest felt under her fingers to memory on that night; it was firmly locked away in the bank of memories that she would take to the grave with her. The vision of the real thing made her want to cry with need, and she felt herself squeeze her thighs together from where she stood, in an attempt to relieve some tension.

He must have sensed he was being watched, because he looked up, his eyes suddenly drawn to where she stood, cheeks flushed and eyes ravenous. They held each other's eyes for much longer than they should have. He suddenly smiled at her. The real kind of smile, not the terse, painted on grimace that she was now used to receiving from him. This was warm, and real, filled with good humour and flirtation. _That was him_. She felt herself melt as she returned the smile, beaming at him. It was only the two of them, for that briefest of moments. It was by far the happiest she had felt since she arrived at Bastion. She swore that she could feel herself bouncing with glee. _Just from a smile_. The moment was over all too quickly when he was diverted by the sound of his name being called by one of the lads. He looked at her, then down at the ground, and she could have sworn that he shook his head imperceptibly. Suddenly, the mask of complete disinterest was back, and he moved from where he stood, leaving Molly to sigh, and for the millionth time since arrival, wonder just how long she was going to be able to do this for.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Charles paced as he reached the base area where he knew Chris would be arriving soon. He knew his friend was due to be deployed today, and managed to sweet talk one of the admin staff into telling him exactly when the bus which carried him on the final leg of his journey would arrive. He was absolutely desperate to talk to somebody about the nightmare he was having. He spotted him descending the steps of the white coach, laughing with a fellow soldier as he walked, and headed straight towards him with intent. Chris saw him approach, and smiled warmly, glad to see a familiar face after his long journey.

Charles was unconcerned with formalities; he had waited weeks to be able to speak to somebody about this. "Thank god you're here. I've got a serious problem" he dragged him to the side, looking around them to make sure nobody could overhear what he was about to say.

"Yes, hello to you too, Charles. You look like utter shit by the way. What's the matter?" Chris took in the frenzied appearance of his old friend. He looked strung out; it was a look he had never seen on him before.

"It's the medic" Charles looked despondently at him, hands on hips and looking as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"Ok. _'It's the medic'_. Do you have any further information? Because mind reading isn't one of my innumerable skills."

"The medic, the replacement medic. Private Dawes." Charles was trying his utmost to think how on earth he was going to explain this.

"What, the Military Cross girl? The one Beck told you to make sure nobody shagged?" Charles nodded despairingly at his friend in response, not saying any more.

"Well? What about her? I'm going to need a clue here Charles." Chris had been travelling for too many hours to even try and work out what was going on. It was obviously bad though - Charles was usually the epitome of the calm, controlled officer. He had never seen him in this state; not even when he and Rebecca had split up.

Chris, sick of the silence, suddenly interjected "Don't tell me you've slipped up and let somebody bang her already?! You'd better pray that Beck doesn't find out if you did!"

Charles didn't have a chance to explain further. As he looked up, he noticed Molly heading toward the two men purposefully, obviously about to ask him something. His throat constricted at the sight. This had the potential to go very badly wrong. She reached the two men.

"Sir, I've been asked to check with you if I can cover a shift at the med centre this afternoon?" She looked exhausted. He wanted to ask her why she looked exhausted. But he didn't. _It wasn't his place_, he reminded himself. Because after he asked her, he would want to console her, and touch her, and kiss her. And those things definitely weren't an option. _Oh god, now he was thinking about kissing her again_. In the absence of any words from him she stood, obviously ill at ease "so..?" she tailed off, obviously waiting for a response. Charles looked as though he couldn't process any words. Chris watched him with utter bemusement. _What in the fuck is wrong with him?_

Despite his tiredness from the long journey to Bastion, he registered that something was very off with this situation, and it wasn't just the abnormally jumpy manner of his friend. Chris stood between the pair, now trying his damnedest to work out where he had seen this girl before. He had the weirdest sense of déjà vu, he could swear she was familiar. He moved closer to her, and shook her hand, trying to get a better look at her. "Captain Chris Adams. Nice to meet you, Private..?"

"Dawes. Sir" she barely looked at him as she responded, but stood to attention regardless. She wanted this to be over as quickly as possible. She was knackered from the broken sleep she was suffering from. Exhausted from the constant thoughts of him. Tired of dealing with his cold silence. She just needed to get permission from him and leave.

Charles suddenly realised the trouble he was in, and tried to interject before Chris could drop him in it. "Yes Dawes. It's fine." She didn't seem to remember Chris, but he could see his friend watching her curiously. He was desperate to get her away before this blew up in his face. "Double away then!" he added in a clipped tone.

She should have been used to his detachment by now, but it still hurt her regardless. "Yes Sir" she lowered her gaze as she spoke, ready to leave. As she began to move away, her head was drawn up with surprise as Chris cried out suddenly, realisation dawning over his handsome features.

"Jesus Christ!" he stared at Molly, comprehension suddenly there. Charles could almost hear the wheels turning in Chris' brain as he connected the dots. "It's the medic!"

_Fucking hell_. Charles registered that he had to end this situation now. He grabbed Chris by the elbow as he dragged him away. Meanwhile, Molly wondered what on earth was wrong with this guy. The boss was dragging him away as they spoke in hushed tones. _What an absolute weirdo_. She was beginning to think they would let any old nutjob be an officer these days.

As Charles hurried him away, Chris was vocalising his lightbulb moment.

"It's _her_! It's fucking Cinderella!"

"Chris!" Charles whispered, low and aggressive as they moved as quickly as possible "I need you, for _once_ in your sorry life, to shut the fuck up. _Now_!" His fingers dug into him as he dragged him away.

:::::::

The two men sat in Charles' quarters as they spoke. Chris now having had a chance to grasp the situation, was full of unhelpful words of advice.

"The way I see it Charles, you have two options. Either you forget about her; or you bang her, get it out of your system, and hope and pray that Beck doesn't find out. I know what I'd be doing if I were you" Chris grinned salaciously at the very thought.

"It's not like that Chris. I've tried to forget about the whole thing but it's impossible! I can't even look at her in her PT kit without feeling like I'm going to have a stroke. And I can't do anything about it - she's under my charge!"

"Whereas you just want her to be under you?" Chris smirked. He was enjoying this more than he should. But Charles was such a stickler for not getting emotionally involved, that he was almost enjoying watching his friend unravel before his eyes. Maybe it would do him good to live a little.

"Oh for god's sake. I should have known better than to mention this to you. Forget I said anything" muttered Charles, his frustration with the whole situation boiling over.

"Oh come on mate, what do you want me to say? You're a complete mess. You need to get a grip of yourself, because if you carry on like a stuttering fool around her, somebody is going to notice. What does she say about the whole thing anyway?"

"Nothing" he shook his head. We haven't discussed it"

"You haven't discussed it? The two of you almost went at it _in a public place_, ten minutes after you met, and have now been reintroduced on tour and you_'haven't discussed it'_". Why the fuck not?"

Charles looked sheepish "I've been pretending I don't know her."

Chris couldn't help it, he broke out in hysterics. "Have I taught you nothing? Oh Jesus, you complete fool. I forgot you'd been out of the game for so long" he shook his head with complete mirth at his friends naivety.

"What's wrong with that? I mean, I know it's not ideal, but I'm meant to be her boss Chris!"

"Let me get this straight. You meet this girl, who you've been looking for, _for months_, obsessing over her?" Charles nodded, long past pretending that he wasn't obsessed.

"And yet you pretend that you don't remember meeting her and almost shagging her. In a nightclub. Surrounded by other people?"

Another nod.

"Thus leading her to the conclusion that you don't remember her because this is a regular occurrence for you..?"

Another nod, this time with an element of realisation.

"And you then proceed to do that weird, silent, strung out thing that I just witnessed, whenever you speak to her?"

_Oh shit._

"Rule number one Charles. Never, ever, forget a woman. Because you never know when you might meet them again. Rule number two. Make them think they're special, unforgettable. Rule number three. Don't act like a fucking prick. At least not if you ever want to get laid. Are you sensing the various problems here?"

By this point, Charles had his head in his hands despondently. "She must think I'm a complete and utter arsehole" he spoke from beneath his hands.

"Correct. You, my friend, need to do some major grovelling. Or else forgetting her will be your only option."

:::::::::

Charles headed to the medical centre with a renewed sense of purpose. Chris had given him a much needed pep-talk, and he now had a semblance of a plan on how he was going to deal with this. He would speak to Molly, like a normal human being, not a complete mess. He had to let her know that he remembered; that he wasn't a complete idiot. He knew that she would be on duty in one of the consultation rooms housed within the middle of the centre, and he had an excuse about his blisters ready. When he had confirmed the correct room, he knocked lightly on the door before entering. She sat, completing paperwork at the desk at the far side of the room, a look of complete bemusement to see him walk in the door. "Boss?"

"Dawes" he cleared his throat uncomfortably. This was going to be more difficult than he thought, his throat was dry, and he already felt nerves knotting in his stomach at the prospect of coming clean. "I need you to have a look at my blisters"

"Okay..." she was frankly amazed that he was speaking to her at all. This was the first time she had been alone with him since they had arrived in Bastion.

"They're driving me nuts. I knew I didn't need new boots, but they insisted" he explained as he removed his boots and socks, grateful for the diversion. He wasn't lying, the blisters were a pain, but it wasn't the real reason he was here.

"Let's have a look then" she sat on a stool beside the bed, and took hold of one of his feet as she examined the damage. As soon as her tiny hands touched him, he felt some of the tension in his body begin to evaporate. He had been trying so hard to stay away, and to avoid all contact, that allowing her to touch him felt like a relief. It was short lived though, and as she continued, he remembered what it felt like to have her touch other parts of him. The curls at the nape of his neck, and the fine hairs on his chest. He willed himself to ignore the heady feeling of desire flowing through his body. If she had noticed his internal battle to bat away the memories, she wasn't making it obvious. She remained professional, making small talk with him as she worked.

She turned her back to him to get more supplies from the counter holding endless supplies of clean dressings and saline solution. He suddenly felt overwhelmed by a sense of nervousness about how this was going. _This wasn't him_. He didn't do nerves, he wasn't the stuttering idiot that he had been reduced to since the moment she arrived back in his life. He tried to harness some of the control that he had previously been known for, clearing his throat, and building up the nerve inside of him to proceed.

He stood from the small bed, and approached the spot where she stood, working silently. She had her back to him, but stood, tense, jaw clenched, obviously aware of his presence behind her.

He couldn't help but lean into her as he stood behind her, willing her to turn around. She didn't. He moved as close as he possibly dared, until the muscles in his chest were only milimetres from touching her back, his head bowed until it was virtually buried in her hair. He could make out her uneven, jagged breaths as he moved even closer, arms touching hers. His hands ventured up to each of her elbows, holding her in place in front of him. He inhaled the scent of her hair, clean and with a distinct scent of something flowery.

Suddenly, he had no idea what had taken over him, and he raised his arm, slowly, debating whether he should even do this at all, and miserably failing to convince himself not to. He used his thumb to trace the curve of her hairline, down her neck and over the curve of her shoulder, slowly and carefully, committing the curves to memory. His mouth was so close to her neck that he had to resist the urge to reach out with his mouth and nuzzle the sensitive spot that he knew she had behind her ear. Goosebumps broke out over both of their bodies as they stood, barely even touching, but charged and ready to explode.

She was willing herself not to move from the spot where she stood. He had placed himself behind her, taking possession of her as though it was nothing. She wanted to resist, to tell him that she had been suffering for much longer than the two weeks they had been here, to scream and shout at him _for not even bothering to remember her_ when he was all that she thought about. But her brain was dissolving to complete mush the more he tortured her, running his fingers along her body, and getting even closer with his mouth.

Suddenly, his hands moved to envelope hers, stroking and caressing them with his long fingers. She was all too aware of his body pressed into hers, and leaned back into him. She could feel his nerves as he shook very slightly. He was nervous. She was shaking herself, trying to hold back from the situation. She was still so hurt, so disappointed that she meant so little to him.

Until he whispered quietly in her ear, forcing her to bite back a moan at the low, almost inaudible sentence.

"Please don't think that I could ever forget you, Molly Dawes."

_He remembered._


	5. Chapter 5

_She was all too aware of his body pressed into hers, and leaned back into him. She could feel his nerves as he shook. She was shaking herself, trying to hold back from the situation. She was still so hurt, so disappointed that she meant so little to him._

_Until he whispered quietly in her ear, forcing her to bite back a moan at the low, almost inaudible sentence._

_"Please don't think that I could ever forget you, Molly Dawes"_

_He remembered._

_:::::::::_

She lowered her eyes and didn't respond, still shaking with unexpressed emotion.

It took every ounce of restraint that he had within him not to sweep her up in his arms. He wanted to take her. To kiss her until she couldn't function. To possess her until she was aware of just how much he'd been thinking, and fantasising about her over the past six months. _But he was her boss_, and they were in the middle of the medical centre, surrounded by people who could walk in at any minute. As much as he wanted to do it, such a move would be wildly inappropriate, not to mention potentially career-ending for both of them. It broke his heart to think that he had hurt her, that she thought that she could be so easily forgotten.

He was desperate to show her just how much she did mean.

Molly stared down at the cabinet in front of her, unable to believe what she was hearing. He remembered.

_He remembered_.

It was something that shouldn't matter; whether he remembered or not. It shouldn't matter to her, but it did. She felt a small surge of joy, of relief, as it sunk in that he did remember her. He remembered _them_; she meant something to him, she wasn't just a forgettable nothing. She still couldn't force herself to turn around to look at him, knowing that she would lose herself as soon as she looked into his eyes.

"I-I thought you didn't remember," her voice was quieter, shakier than she intended for it to be, but she couldn't quite figure out what happened to Molly Dawes, the girl who usually had an answer for everything. She was gone, replaced by a quivering mess. _Only he could do this to her_.

"I remember every single second of that night. I think about you every day," he said, still pressed behind her, lightly rubbing his thumb in circles over her hand, "How could I forget?"

Seconds ticked by as he let the weight of his words settle in. She still wasn't responding, but he had started to open up. _What the hell, he may as well get it out of his system_. It was almost easier to make the admission when she wasn't looking into his eyes. "I don't want you to think for one second that I just went out that night with the intention of getting drunk and hooking up with with any random woman."

Molly flinched, the weight of his words burning her. That was _exactly_ her worst fear. She had been tormenting herself for weeks with the thought; it was what she was most afraid of.

"That night really meant something to me" he continued, "I was out with my friend, completely out of my comfort zone and miserable, and all of a sudden I saw this absolutely amazing woman in front of me. You took my breath away. You were wearing a black dress, it was short and tight, and you were with your friend, obviously enjoying yourself, and I swear to god it felt like my heart stopped beating in my chest, watching you from across the bar. That has never happened to me before. I watched you for ages before I even worked up the courage to approach you. And even then, I was a mess."

He was finding some sort of therapy in his confession, he wanted her to know exactly what he was thinking. "You should know that I've thought about you every day and night since then, Molly. I've been dying to find you-"

"Stop-" she found a sudden burst of confidence allowing her to turn around and face him. Her eyes were glassy with unshed tears, and she put a finger to his mouth, tracing over his full lips. He could feel the heat of her touch, it was loaded with unexpressed emotions. She pulled away as though she too had felt the burn. She was conflicted, wanting to hear his words, but terrified of the way they were making her feel. He didn't just remember her, he remembered the tiny little _details_. As though he too had been plagued by the memories.

He watched her torment. "You don't know how much I wish we were back there Molly. Not even back there, just not here. Anywhere but here." he paused, his hands reaching for her face as he tried to pull himself back from the edge. "I know that I shouldn't be in this room, talking to you like this, telling you these things. It's completely unprofessional. But I can't stop myself."

"I don't want you to stop" she murmured. She had found the confidence to put her emotions into words. He had floored her with his admission, and the words which followed. But she was certain of one thing; she wanted him. Right there and then. She had never been more certain of anything in her life.

"Don't say that Molly. You can't say that to me. Because this cannot happen, Not here-" _Oh god, this was going all wrong_. He was torn between his responsibilities, and the strength of the force with which he needed her.

"All I want to do-" he placed his hands on her hips, as he forcefully moved her towards the wall. "-is press you against this wall-" his head was bowed towards her, his mouth hovering over her ear, hands wandering further and further until he composed himself and placed them back on her hips "-and kiss you. Taste you again." She was trembling, unable to move, trapped by his hands.

"But that would be wrong." He couldn't help himself. He continued to press himself against her, letting her know just how much he needed her.

"Totally wrong" she murmured, gasping as he ran his fingers down the length of her face, moving them to her lips as she spoke.

"Completely wrong. Because once I kiss you Molly, I won't just be able to stop there" his mouth moved to her neck as he grazed his lips lightly on a sensitive spot. He grumbled a low moan of approval as his lips made contact with the soft skin there. Her legs felt like they might cut out beneath her, she could have been standing on jelly, the butterflies in her stomach were dancing with need just from his words.

She was pressed against the wall, unable to move, their bodies moulded closely together as they stood. He continued to whisper soft and low in her ear.

"I know. I wouldn't be able to stop there. Because I've run through it so many times in my head." He was dying, lust beginning to take over."The things I want to do to you Molly Dawes..." She couldn't take the pressure in her pelvis any more, and squirmed in his arms, against his body. His hands were still around her middle, and he forced one of them between the tiniest gap where her shirt met her trousers. He stroked the exposed skin on her lower stomach, his other hand resting on her back. "This is killing me Molly."

"Do it then" she whispered. She could hardly force the words out. Her brain felt like it had short circuited, taken over by sheer lust. "Kiss me"

He had never felt so conflicted as he did at that moment. He could not,_ should not in a million years_, be doing this. It was wrong. _But it felt so right._

His lips hovered over hers, threateningly, inviting a response. She felt like she might pass out from the anticipation of what he was about to do. His mind suddenly flashed back to the same scenario six months previously, a memory of her moans as he had taken her with his mouth.

_Decision made._

He watched her eyes as he made his approach. They were the darkest green, flashing with need, desperation, and something else that he couldn't quite place. As soon as their lips met, it sparked a reaction within both of them that took his breath away. He was well aware that being within touching distance of Molly was akin to playing with matches whilst standing beside a gallon of petrol. He had sparked one of those matches after many months of anticipation.

Just as he had remembered, she moaned with need as soon as their mouths met. He felt the vibrations resonate in his mouth and responded in kind. She pulled his head closer to her, running her hands through his hair. He groaned even more as she pulled the curls on his head. They had been kissing for all of ten seconds, tongues clashing with wild abandon when the crackly sounds of the intercom speaker crackled above them and blasted into life.

"_Emergency incoming_. All medical personnel report to floor 1. I repeat, all medical personnel report to floor 1."

They jumped apart as though doused with a bucket of ice cold water, chests heaving and flushed from their all too short embrace. Luckily for them, the intercom set off around ten seconds before the door flew open, giving them an opportunity to pull apart. As it launched open, exposing the two of them to the world, one of Molly's fellow medics, Beth, swung her head in as she ran past.

"Emergency, Molly. We need to go!"

Molly took one look at Charles. He had turned his back to her, hands on hips, trying to compose himself. He wouldn't turn back round to look at her. _Shit. Back to square one._

Molly left. He heard her go but couldn't force himself to watch as she departed. He was trying to think about literally anything other than her. _Anything_. He needed to get his mind back to professional. He had almost just completely fucked the whole thing up. He had let himself get carried away before he could explain that they needed to wait out. If he let himself get involved with her while they were out here, it would be disastrous.

_I'm going to have to tie my fucking hands behind my back if I'm going to survive this tour._

He tried valiantly to remind his groin that he was meant to be a professional, willing pictures of anything other than Molly panting in his arms to appear. He currently had the self control of a teenage schoolboy and he needed to get a grip. After taking ten minutes in the empty room to compose himself, he resolved to get back to his quarters for the coldest shower known to man.

::::::

As Charles strode down the corridor of the medical centre, he spotted a familiar face making it's way towards him. Major Scott. He smiled warmly. The major had been his CO back on his first tour of Afghanistan, when he and Chris were lowly privates, wet around the ears and with no real concept of what was ahead of them.

"Charles!" his authoritative voice boomed, filling the empty corridor.

"Sir! I had no idea you were here; this is a surprise!" He was genuinely delighted to see the older man who had been such an inspiration to him.

"Oh come on Charles, I think we go back long enough for you to call me Richard. How the hell are you?"

"I'm well, thank you Sir. I mean, Richard" he corrected himself. He tried to think of the last time he had actually seen the major. It must have been years ago, not long after Sam was born.

"I just saw your old pal Adams at the base, he told me you were here. Gosh, he hasn't changed much has he?!"

"No sir, I think we've all come to the conclusion that Chris will never grow up." It was almost reassuring to him that no matter how much time passed, Chris would never change. Consistency was one of his few redeeming features.

"You two always were the best of pals. I still remember his speech at the wedding. Bloody hilarious. Forgiven him for that yet by the way?"

Charles snorted at the memory. Chris and Rebecca had only ever tolerated each other's company, and the miserable little shit had decided to make the very most of his opportunity to address the room. His best man's speech had been an absolute riot for most of the guests, who cried with laughter at the rampage through a potted history of Charles' track record with the ladies. He had finished it off with an ill-judged joke, that Charles still remembered to that day.

_"Well, ladies and gentlemen, as much fun as this has been, I'll cut it short here. I've been informed that the very best of speeches from the best man will only ever last as long as the groom will on his wedding night. In that case, this ten-minute speech has been exactly nine and a half minutes too long. I apologise, and leave you to toast the bride and groom!" He sat down, as the guests howled raucously._

Rebecca hadn't seen the funny side, and it certainly hadn't helped when, Chris being Chris, he slept with her bridesmaid. She had tried her utmost to get rid of her husband's friend for the remainder of their short-lived marriage.

"I think that's probably a speech best forgotten about, Sir!"

Richard laughed at the memory, and continued to walk with Charles as they made their way past the cubicles to exit the building.

"It has been a few years I suppose. When you get to my age, they all melt away and merge into one. The last time I saw you, Sam was just a baby. How old is he now?"

"He's seven. Although the attitude that he is starting to give now would suggest he's reaching the teenager stage quicker than his age would suggest" his heart warmed at the very thought of his son, although the guilt crept into his consciousness at the same time. Sam had started to become more and more bothered by Charles leaving to go on tour for 6 months at a time, and his latest departure had been the hardest so far. He shared joint custody with Rebecca, but the upheaval of leaving for extended periods of time wasn't ideal. As Rebecca reminded him on every occasion she possibly could.

Richard nodded in understanding. As the father of three teenage girls, it was something he could sympathise with. "Ah yes, it only gets worse the older they get" they continued to head towards the exit of the building. "And how's the wife doing?" Richard asked as they walked through the exit. The door slammed behind them as they progressed.

_Great. He obviously hadn't heard_. Charles hated this point in the conversation, which he inevitably ended up having on a regular basis with army colleagues who he hadn't seen in years. He always expected that word spread about these things, but he often found himself having to set the record straight regardless. "Ah. Well she isn't my wife any more, Sir. We got divorced last year."

"Oh bloody hell, sorry to hear that. I always thought you two would go the distance" the atmosphere had become somewhat awkward between the two men given the topic of conversation.

"Some things just aren't meant to be" Charles was philosophical about the whole situation. It saddened him that Sam would grow up without his parents together, but at the same time, he and Rebecca had been trapped in a dead marriage for more years than either cared to admit. _They both deserved to be happy._

He shook the thoughts from his head, and the two men continued to catch up as they walked.

:::::::::::::::::::::

Molly sped back to the room she had left Charles in. The MERT had landed at the hospital carrying three severely injured personnel. It was a complete mess, but there had been too many staff in the way, trying to help. Molly had been sent back to cover the non-emergency cases that would arrive whilst the other staff were tied up. She tried to push the memory of the men laid out on the stretchers as they had been wheeled past her.

It was something that she would never get used to, as hard as she tried. The blood, and the screams of those poor soldiers were still resonating in her head when she reached the room. She hadn't really considered what she would say to Charles when she got there. Maybe it was best left alone, until they had both had an opportunity to calm down. But then she remembered the feeling of his hands on her, and was drawn back to the feeling that she needed to return to him. She swung the door open, finding the room empty.

_Fuck, He's gone._

She could hear his voice in one of the empty corridors somewhere. The echo of his low voice still had her insides trembling as she sought him. Why were all of the bloody corridors empty when she could hear him talking to somebody. Finally, she caught sight of the back of him as he chatted to an older soldier as they walked towards the exit. _God, his arse looked amazing in his uniform._

_Christ Molly, focus up._

She caught sight of the other man, and recognised him as Major Scott. Scott had been in command of her first tour, and she knew from speaking to Geddings that he was one of the major factors in her being awarded the Military Cross. He was a good man, and she was pleased to see that him and the boss seemed to be on good terms.

She raced towards the pair, ready to pull Charles back with an excuse about finishing treating his blisters. The men were both laughing about something, but she couldn't quite make out what they were saying. She heard more as she raced nearer.

_"I think that's probably a memory best forgotten about, Sir!"_Charles was sniggering as he spoke.

"_It has been a few years I suppose. When you get to my age, they all melt away and merge into one. The last time I saw you, Sam was just a baby. How old is he now?"_

_Who the hell was Sam?_ A cold feeling of nervousness was beginning to invade her body at the direction this conversation was going, and she suddenly held back, not wanting to hear any more.

_"He's seven. Although the attitude that he is starting to give now would suggest he's reaching the teenager stage quicker than his age would suggest"_ she could hear the pride in his voice as he spoke. Suddenly, it all made sense. She remembered him holding her in the room, whispering in her ear, telling her that it was wrong; that he couldn't do it. She had thought at the time that it was just because he was her boss. The feeling of dread wasn't going away, it was increasing the longer she listened.

_Maybe she was wrong, maybe she was jumping to conclusions._ The rational part of her brain tried to pull her back from the brink of despair.

They were still talking. She couldn't tear herself away. They were opening the door, about to walk out of the building. All it would take was for one of them to turn around and spot her, yet she still couldn't pull away.

_"Ah yes, it only gets worse the older they get."_

They walked out the door, the frame poised to close behind them. She caught the last comment as the door flew towards her.

_"And how's the wife doing?"_

The door slammed behind them, leaving a shell-shocked Molly reeling behind it.

_How could I have been so stupid?_

:::::::::

**AN- yes, I did just do that! Sorry! **

**Your reviews absolutely make my day - please let me know what you think! I have a couple of different thoughts for where this might go next, but will try not to leave you hanging for too long!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi all - sorry to leave it a bit longer than usual between updates, and thanks to the lovely pinerug for giving me an idea which assisted in pulling me past my current bout of writer's block! As ever, feedback would be lovely, I appreciate every review. I might have to leave it a little longer between chapters for the next while, but I will continue to update.**

::::::::::::::

Molly lay, curled up in her cabin bed, sweltering in the still high temperature of the evening. Darkness had fallen on Camp Bastion, and she lay tossing and turning whilst she tried desperately to push the events of that afternoon from her brain. She had paced the female quarters for at least an hour before she could calm herself down enough to lie even remotely still. A tense rage had settled upon her bones. She was furious, mostly with herself. She had fallen for a man who had a wife._ A wife and a child_. She had thought that he was different. His words as he whispered softly to her in the medical centre that afternoon had been loving, tender and had filled her with need for him. For those few moments, she had felt so special; so wanted. Then, she heard the words that brought her crashing back down to earth with a thud

_"And how's the wife doing?"_

She supposed it was partly her own fault; she hadn't exactly asked for details about him when they first met, and they had spent so much time trying to actively avoid each other since arriving in Bastion that there wasn't exactly much time to discuss personal lives. But he shouldn't have led her on; let her think that he felt the same things as she did. If she had known he was married, she wouldn't have let herself fall for him, she would have been stronger. Not only did she feel stupid for falling for it, but cheap and used. _A home wrecker._

"Arrrrgh" she groaned, frustrated, into her pillow. This was achieving nothing. She couldn't sleep; too busy punishing and berating herself for being so incredibly stupid. She wished to god Jackie was here. She missed having somebody to talk to; the other girls in the female quarters were ok, but she didn't feel the same level of trust that she did with her friend. She couldn't tell anybody else about what was going on; it was far too risky.

Eventually, she rose from the rickety camp bed, pulling on her trainers as she moved. There was no way she was getting any sleep. She would get a drink, and run until she knackered herself so much that she couldn't think any more. That was it, she would exhaust herself, drive him from her mind. _It was the only way._

As she ran, she pushed harder and harder, trying to force him from her brain. It was a futile attempt to divert her attention. She couldn't shake the thoughts of him; the memories of him holding her, kissing her, promising that she meant something. She ran until she felt like her legs might fall off, cheeks scarlet from exertion, sweat running over her entire body.

She pounded past his quarters, desperate to bang the door, and scream and shout. Maybe she would feel better if she could get if off of her chest. But he would still be married. No matter what she did, nothing could happen between them. She stopped, unable to find the energy to run any further, and staggered to the shower block. When she was in the relative privacy of the block, she fell to the floor, surrounded by the flowing water. The noises of the shower disguised her heavy sobs as she sat, arms wrapped around herself, trying to work out how on earth she had ended up here.

:::::

Charles surveyed the scene in front of him as he stood enjoying his morning coffee. It was 9am and Camp Bastion was in full swing. Before his eyes, soldiers buzzed around him, completing tasks and going about their day to day business.

He was the only one who stayed still, taking in the picture before him. The morning sun was beginning to increase in intensity; before long it would burn so bright that it would no longer be comfortable to stand in its light. He took a deep breath, savouring the warm beat of the rays, before continuing to sip from his coffee cup. He had thought long and hard overnight about how he was going to deal with this situation with Molly; and he had a plan.

She knew how he felt about her; and he was certain that she felt the same. So long as they both knew that, they could resolve to wait out until they got home before they took this, _whatever it was_, any further.

_He was a grown up; he could control himself_. And if he repeated that mantra in his head often enough, he would eventually convince himself. It was a plan. And right now, it was the only one at his disposal.

As he stood, deep in thought, he saw 2 section approaching the mess tent, obviously bantering about something or other. His eyes were automatically drawn to her tiny figure, dwarfed in the crowd of young men. Even head to toe in camouflage, hair tied back in a tight bun, she made the breaths feel shorter in his chest, his heart rate increasing even watching her from a distance.

He watched her interaction with the others closely. It had become apparent over the first few weeks of deployment that she fitted in like a missing jigsaw piece with the remainder of the lads. From the moment she rinsed Smurf on the tarmac at Brize, he had seen her adopted by her colleagues as just another one of them. He was a little worried that there was almost a hero worship element going on in a couple of the lads' heads though, and he would need to watch that in line with Beck's instructions to him. Which would make him a complete hypocrite, since he was the biggest offender of all in that respect.

"Perving again are you, Prince Charming?" Chris appeared at his side, grinning as he spoke. "Got in her pants yet?"

"You're disgusting"

"Yes, disgustingly handsome!" Charles groaned at the punchline, draining the last of his coffee from the cup at the same time, shaking his head.

"Whatever you say. And in answer to your question, there will be no getting in anybody's pants. Not till we're out of here."

Chris snorted in reply, laughing mischievously "and I thought you were delusional the day you got married.."

"Shut up. It's the only option"

"No Charles, it's a complete fantasy on your part. Even if you're willing to leave it that long, what makes you think she's going to wait five more months for you to man up and make a move?" Chris had hit a nerve, and Charles felt his temper rising as he answered.

"She knows how I feel about her"

"She knows you _remember_ her. There's a difference."

_For fuck's sake_. This wasn't helping Charles' attempts to convince himself to listen to reason. "As much as it would entertain you Chris, I can't just go about sleeping with one of my soldiers. No matter how much I want to."

"All very admirable. Just remember how admirable it all was when somebody else makes a move and you're left wondering why you didn't listen to me."

Charles sighed in exasperation. _Maybe Chris was right, as worrying a concept as that was_. He couldn't just blow hot and cold with her, and expect her to know what he was thinking. He had to make clear exactly what he wanted from her, and hope that she would consider it worth both the wait, and the risk to her career. From the way things had escalated between them yesterday, he knew he would have to be careful when he tackled this. If he was left alone with her for too long, he knew he wouldn't be able to maintain the strength to resist her.

"Anyway. Sorry to disturb your dirty daydreams, but I thought I'd better warn you. Beck's here." Charles looked at him quizzically "I thought he wasn't due for another week?"

"He wasn't - he's early. Got me lined up for some joint mission with the ASF. Thought I'd at least get a few days to acclimatise, but he wants me out of here in the next 24 hours. I dread to bloody think what's going on; I've got a mission briefing in 20 minutes."

Charles whistled through his teeth. He and Chris were soldiers through and through, but pre-mission nervousness was a curse, no matter how much experience a soldier had. It tended to be worse the higher up the chain of command you travelled. The higher your rank, the higher the number of men depending on you to make the right decisions to keep them alive.

He sympathised with his friend; whilst he was beginning to reach a level of boredom in Bastion, he knew that they would soon be deployed to a Forward Operating Base in the North, to assist with the upcoming Afghan elections. He was eager to get on with the mission, but the anticipation ahead of the move was the worst part.

"Good luck. Come and find me before you go. Sam gave me your good luck charm to pass on when I saw you." Sam and his '_Uncle Chris'_ were firm friends. Charles generally put it down to the fact that Chris had never actually grown up, therefore had around the same level of maturity as his seven year old. The pair had an ongoing fascination with steam trains, and Sam always insisted that his favourite Uncle took a particular red train on tour with him; it had always served him well until this point, and he was now genuinely superstitious about it.

"Love that boy. He's so much more sensible than his father." Chris began to depart, before issuing a final word of advice as he walked away."You should get yourself off to the mess, catch up with Cinders before somebody else does."

Charles, heeding the advice, turned on his heel, and headed for the tent which currently housed his men.

::::::::

"Dawes, a word please?"

"Yes Sir" she tried her very best to appear nonchalant, despite the hackles rising in her at hearing his voice.

"Outside" he cocked his head in the direction of the exit.

She stood reluctantly from her place at the table, following him as he led her out of the tent. He made his way to a secluded spot behind the tent, looking to make sure nobody had followed them, before dropping the stern face. He gave her his most dazzling smile.

"Hi" he grinned at her, feeling like a schoolboy. She was still acting as though she was distancing herself. He wondered why; nobody could see them back here.

"Sir"

_Why was she calling him Sir?_ She was refusing to meet his eyes. It occurred to him that they hadn't yet decided anything, drawn up any sort of plan together. She was obviously feeling awkward. Maybe he needed to make it clearer. He stuffed his pockets in his hands awkwardly, trying to grasp the right words. Whenever he was around her, his brain seemed to cease working properly. All he could think about was her; her smell, the way her hair fell around her shoulders; how her lips tasted when he kissed them.

He tried to focus, and spoke softly "you don't need to call me that when we're on our own, you know. I know it's difficult in front of the others, but when it's just the two of us alone together, I'm not your boss."

She raised her eyes briefly and regarded him coldly. _So that was his plan?_ Have her as a bit on the side while he was out here and not getting any from his wife. _God, she felt cheap and dirty._

"What did you want to speak to me about?_ Sir?_" she added pointedly, lowering her head. She wouldn't look at him again, she was far too emotional for that. She averted her gaze, keeping it fixed firmly on a piece of lint on his shoulder.

"I-" he stuttered for a second, completely blindsided by her cold reception, and unsure whether to continue with what he was going to say. _Was she having second thoughts?_

"I just wanted to have a moment alone, to talk about yesterday." He watched her as he spoke. There it was again, that cold, hard look. He could have sworn he saw tears form in her eyes before she shook her head and cut him off.

"As far as I'm concerned, nothing happened yesterday. It's forgotten about." He took a step back, staggered by the words coming from her mouth. _He couldn't possibly have misread this situation so badly. What had happened to make her react like this?_

If that's all you wanted, then I'll be off. _Sir_." She added pointedly, and squeezed past him as she tried to leave. He grabbed hold of her wrist to stop her. She visibly flinched at his touch, and he pulled away. _What the fuck was this?_ The panic was rising in his chest. _Had he completely blown this_?

"Molly-"

"It's Private Dawes. Not Molly." She knew she was pushing it, he was her CO after all. If she pushed it much further he could probably have her up on a charge. But then he would have to explain why a married officer was pursuing his medic, so he probably wouldn't take it any further. She was just so bloody furious with him that she couldn't help the nastiness in her tone. The rage was still pounding in her chest, taunting her for being so stupid as to fall for a married man. When he had grabbed her wrist, she felt such a reaction to his touch that she was beginning to get even more angry with herself. _Why couldn't she just switch her feelings for him off?_

He looked horrified, and she was almost tempted to spell it out for him there and then. _That she knew._ He had tried to make her his dirty little secret, and she would be damned if she let that happen.

"What the hell is wrong?" he hissed, clearly becoming more confused by the second. "I thought I made it clear to you yesterday how I felt."

"Oh yes. Everything became crystal clear yesterday. _Trust me_." She continued to seethe as he scrambled for a response.

"What the fuck? Molly.."

"I already told you _Sir_. It's Private Dawes." She made it past him this time, striding angrily as she escaped from his presence. As he moved to follow her, she forced herself to look at him as she issued her parting words.

"Do. Not. Follow. Me" she snarled as she moved away from him. The words, coupled with the ferocity of her tone stopped him in his tracks. He was a man who had stared potential death square in the eyes before. It hadn't scared him as much as this did. Her eyes were cold and furious.

_He had lost her, and he had no idea why._

Her chest heaved, unshed tears pricking her eyes as she moved as quickly as possible without drawing attention to herself. _That had been even harder than she expected_. But the anger was enough to keep her going for now. It had been enough of a force for her to ignore the crushed, deflated expression on his face as she had spoken. She had to remind herself that this was his fault.

The look on his face would have been enough to crush her if she couldn't cling on to that particular thought.

::::::::::

Molly braced herself as she reached Major Beck's office later that afternoon. He had arrived in Bastion that day, and she had been summoned to speak with him; she dreaded to think why. _There's no way he can know; it couldn't be that_, she reasoned with herself. Not another soul knew about what had happened with her and the boss. She realised that he had more to lose than her by telling anybody. Not only was he her boss, but he was a married man. No, there's no way that he had confessed all. There must be another reason that she was needed.

As she entered, she stood to attention, noting that the Major was with that weird officer that she had met the other day. She still hadn't worked out what his problem was; but that was currently way down her list of troubles.

"You wanted to see me Sir?"

"Yes Dawes. At ease. Sit down" she loosened her gait, and took her place in the chair that Beck motioned to. The men sat at a table, covered in maps and papers. "You've met Captain Adams?" he motioned to the officer sat in the other chair. The officer was watching her curiously, looking like he was trying not to say something.

"Briefly, Sir" she responded to the Major, but noticed that this statement had also tickled Captain Adams. He looked down at his lap, obviously trying to disguise a smirk.

"Right. Well Dawes, we've asked you here to pick your brains. Captain Adams is leading a mission 20 miles north of the Dwyer FOB at Garmsir. I understand from Captain Geddings that you were based there during your first tour."

Molly nodded, surprised at how emotional she felt at the mention of the FOB where she was first stationed. It had been a simpler time, one she yearned for now.

"We're looking for specific information about particular areas that the mission team will cover. We know the place is mined to buggery, so any light you can shed from personal experience would be useful."

"Of course, Sir. She was delighted at the prospect of being able to think of anything other than _him_, and proceeded to spend the next two hours poring over maps and intelligence with the two men.

:::::::::

Hours after their argument; still pacing his quarters with his hands wrapped in his hair, Charles had no idea what on earth had happened to make her so incredibly angry with him. The last time he had seen her they had been kissing frantically, transfixed with one another. If that emergency hadn't come in to the hospital, then god know how far things would have gone. He couldn't for the life of him, work out what had gone wrong.

He was disturbed by a knock on the door of his quarters. When he opened the door, he half expected to find Molly, there to explain what was wrong. Instead, Major Beck stood with Chris, waiting to be invited inside. Chris stood a couple of steps back, hands in his pockets,and the strangest look on his face. Charles had known him for more years than he could remember, and witnessing that look on his face always filled him with a deep sense of foreboding. _Something was wrong._

He invited the two men inside, before Beck took the lead and explained the reasoning for the visit.

"Chris has been despatched on an urgent joint mission with the ASF. The particular details of that mission mean that I can't divulge any more, which I'm sure you'll understand." Charles nodded, more than familiar with the secrecy which always came hand in hand with such missions. Only those who needed to know were kept privy to pertinent mission details; it was the nature of the world they inhabited.

Beck cleared his throat. "Chris will be taking one of your platoon members with him. I realise its extremely short notice, but its essential to the mission that we have a team member with experience of the particular conditions on the ground here."

Charles felt his heart plummet to his feet. He already knew from the look on Chris' face; there was no need to vocalise his worst fear.

"Private Dawes has volunteered to assist with the mission"

::::::::::


	7. Chapter 7

_"Chris has been despatched on an urgent joint mission with the ASF. The particular details of that mission mean that I can't divulge any more, which I'm sure you'll understand." Charles nodded, more than familiar with the secrecy which always came hand in hand with such missions. Only those who needed to know were kept privy to pertinent mission details; it was the nature of the world they inhabited._

_Beck cleared his throat. "Chris will be taking one of your platoon members with him. I realise its extremely short notice, but its essential to the mission that we have a team member with experience of the particular conditions on the ground here."_

_Charles felt his heart plummet to his feet. He already knew from the look on Chris' face; there was no need to vocalise his worst fear._

_"Private Dawes has volunteered to assist with the mission"_

:::::::::::

Major Beck left shortly after his announcement, leaving a shell shocked Charles, and a sheepish Chris behind. He stared at his friend, wondering where to begin.

_This couldn't be happening_. She had volunteered to go on a special ops mission?! With Chris, _of all bloody people_. Whilst he would trust his friend with his life; there was one thing he absolutely couldn't be trusted with, and that was women.

His principal concern though, was the danger that Molly had put herself in. He had volunteered for these types of missions before; when he was in a particularly bad place around the time that he and Rebecca split, and when he quite frankly didn't care whether he came back dead or alive. He had eventually got a grip of himself during that time when he considered the prospect of leaving Sam without a father. He couldn't quite believe that Molly would voluntarily place herself in such danger when she hadn't been specifically asked to.

"What the _actual_ fuck Chris?!" he was incredulous that his friend had allowed this to happen. He, of all people could have stepped in and put a stop to this before it got off the ground.

He held his hands up in mock surrender "before you start, this isn't my fault. She was bloody adamant that she wanted to come, and Beck seems to think its a brilliant idea. What can I say, she's good."

Charles wasn't convinced, and Chris continued "I'm not terribly happy about it myself, I must say. I could do without having to babysit your girlfriend." Charles had to concede that it was probably not something he could have avoided, even if he tried. He already knew how headstrong Molly could be when she put her mind to something. Christ, he had witnessed it outside the mess tent this morning when she stormed away from him.

"She's not my girlfriend" he muttered, still stunned by her complete 180 degree turn on the matter. Chris looked confused and Charles continued "according to her, we mean nothing to each other. She's absolutely furious with me, and I have no idea why."

"Well, that explains why she's so desperate to get out of here. What have you done this time, or what _haven't_ you done, should I ask?"

"I have no idea, Chris."

He looked at his friend, knowing in advance what the answer would be, but asking anyway "I need to speak to her before she goes."

"No way. Absolutely no fucking way." As he spoke, Charles looked at him, silently pleading with his eyes. "No. And I'm speaking as her temporary CO here, not your best friend. She's with the rest of the team, getting her kit ready to go". Charles was prepared to argue his point, but Chris was undeterred "I mean it Charles, I need her 100% focussed. You go and speak to her now and the two of you will either end up shagging or arguing. Neither of which will help her focus. She'll end up getting herself; or even worse, all of us, killed."

Charles was pacing now, understanding the point, but hating the reality of it anyway. "I swear to god, Chris, I'm trusting you here. You need to make sure that not a hair on her head is harmed." Chris nodded, but he continued regardless. "I mean it. If I can't be there to protect her, I need to know that you are."

Chris smirked. He couldn't help it, he knew Charles was overwrought, but maybe this whole thing would force him to step up to the plate when it came to how he felt about this girl. _A little extra encouragement couldn't go too wrong, could it?_ Charles needed a boot up the arse, and he knew exactly what would give him one.

"Oh, I'll take care of her. The only thing you need to worry about is if she falls for the patented Adams charm." He stifled an internal laugh at the pained look Charles wore. "She does seem to have a bit of a thing for officers." _Bingo_. He could see the rage form in Charles' eyes, and prodded just a little further.

"I must say, she is really fucking gorgeous up close. If it really isn't going to happen with you two, you won't mind if I step on your toes a little, will you mate?"

Chris had pushed the joke a little too far, and soon found himself on the end of a verbal torrent from his friend. Charles glowered threateningly as his eyes darkened with intensity. "This isn't a joke. You lay one fucking finger on her and I'll kill you and make it look like an accident. I'm not kidding Chris."

_That's more like it._ Maybe his little plan would work, after all. The two of them were clearly love-sick fools. He was enjoying this unrestrained side to his friend, after years of being buttoned up by a control freak of a wife. He grinned to himself, a spring in his step as he walked away; even Cinderella and Prince Charming needed a little bit of help to get to the happy ending.

::::::::

Charles watched from afar as the team prepared to depart. He was completely powerless to do anything to stop this from happening, and it was tormenting him. He watched as Chris laughed and joked with her. They were obviously getting on well already. They were going off on a mission together; adrenaline would be pumping, they would be in close quarters the whole time, and god only knows what he would be trying with her.

He felt like he did that first night when he watched from the bar as another man danced with her, putting his hands on her hips as they moved. He hadn't even spoken to her at that point, yet he still thought of her as his, even when they were strangers. Now that things had changed, and she had at one point been in his arms, his feelings of jealousy were fuelled even further. Hot, irrational flames of anger seared his consciousness. _How had it come to this in the space of 24 short hours?_

He was still watching her intensely. Although he wasn't close enough to see the minute expressions on her face, he could tell she was out of sorts; putting a brave face on things. He could see Chris place a joking arm around her as they walked, before he looked up and grinned at Charles. His blood boiled; he could swear that the little shit was doing this on purpose to wind him up. He had succeeded; Charles was livid.

They boarded the tank after the remainder of the team, and at that final opportunity, she risked a glance in his direction. Their eyes met; and he felt, just for one second, like he could breathe evenly again. Realising what was happening, she tore her gaze away, chastising herself for being drawn to him like a moth to a flame, yet again.

The imposing machine pulled away from the camp, taking a piece of him with it.

_This was going to kill him._

:::::::::

As the tank rumbled through the vast swathes of sand in the sweeping Afghan desert, Molly tried to ignore the clawing feeling in her stomach that something was off; the sense that something was very, very wrong. She put it down to the deep sense of imbalance that had been present in her being since she had discovered the truth about Charles.

She hadn't really been thinking straight when she insisted on joining this mission. Her priority was to escape from him, no matter what it took. This way, she was guaranteed at least 36 hours away from Bastion, potentially more, depending on the value of the intelligence they had been provided with. The mission was straightforward enough; they had been provided with solid intel on the location of a key taliban insurgent. The trained snipers who sat on either side of her would be the ones to take the target out. The tricky part was to avoid potential landmines and IED's placed on the roadsides to take them out. That was where her prior knowledge of this particular landscape would be useful.

She really was grateful of the distraction, although if she had known quite how touchy-feely Captain Adams was, she would perhaps have thought twice. He was a bit of a laugh, but when they had been boarding the tank, he had launched his arm round her, just in time for the boss to see them. She shook her head, wondering yet again how this had happened. She was meant to be a professional. She would get her head down and get on with the task in hand.

She would forget about this whole thing. _Yep, forgotten about_. She wouldn't think about Captain James. _Or his gorgeous arse. Or his wife_. All, forgotten about. _Clearly_.

:::::::::

They finally arrived at their destination, after several hours spent rolling around the Afghan landscape. Darkness had finally settled upon them, and they could risk making their way to the deserted compound that would house them overnight.

As Molly set up a makeshift medical facility within the compound, she noticed the captain making his way towards her. As she waited for him to make the final few steps into the small room, she tried yet again to bat away the niggling sense that she remembered him from somewhere. The guy clearly loved himself, although he was quite funny with it, even she had to admit. The entire way he held himself reflected complete and utter confidence; he reminded her of Nan's old saying; '_if he was chocolate, he'd eat himself'_. She remembered thinking that about somebody else a while ago. _Who was it again?!_

_Oh fuck. That was it!_ As he walked over to her, her mind suddenly flashed back to the same scenario, months earlier. _He had been there that night._ He was the good looking guy that had approached her and Jackie before Charles came steaming up behind him and blew him completely out of the water. Molly had been done for as soon as her eyes had been diverted to Charles. She hadn't even remembered what his mate looked like until now. He looked quizzically at her as she gawped, completely gobsmacked that she hadn't remembered him until now.

"See something you like?" he asked quietly, curious as to why she was staring at him. He wondered if she remembered him from that night. This could be his potential lead-in to discuss whatever she had convinced herself the problem was between her and Charles.

"No" she shook her head vigorously "just remembered something".

_Shut up Molly, this will only lead to trouble._

He smirked. _Get in_. "If you say so. I've already been well warned off shagging you by your boyfriend, so just try and control yourself." She dropped her gaze, flustered. When she looked at him, she knew there was no point in even trying to deny it. He obviously knew about her and Charles. _Fuck._

She was mortified. _This was bad; really, really bad._ She had hoped to be able to avoid anybody finding out about how completely stupid she had been.

She was now genuinely worried about how this looked. "He's not my boyfriend. I don't make a habit of getting involved with married men."

_What the fuck is she talking about?_ "Okay. I was talking about Charles. Is there some other guy he should be worried about?"

_What a cheeky bastard_. "Do you reckon I'm a complete slapper mate? No, there's just him. And that's not happening now that I know about his wife." She fumed; she may have been stupid to get involved, but she wasn't going to carry things on. Not now that she knew the truth.

"Wait a minute, what's Rebecca got to do with this?" Chris was genuinely nonplussed by this point in the conversation. He felt like he needed an interpreter. Charles and Molly were clearly well suited, all the pair of them did was talk in riddles. They both needed a boot up the arse from his regulation combat boot six lace holes.

"Are you kidding? I'm sure most of his little girlfriends don't care that he's married when he looks the way he does, but I do." She tried to wipe the thought that she wasn't the first from her mind, but she couldn't.

He burst out laughing. The idea of Charles as some sort of lothario was pretty entertaining, but he supposed somebody ought to put this girl out of her misery.

Suddenly it was all starting to make sense. "Is this utter bullshit the reason you told him to get lost this morning?"

"For fuck's sake, does he tell you everything? I'm starting to worry he's got a boyfriend an' all."

This time it was her turn to giggle as he spluttered. "Easy Dawes, you'll damage my reputation."

"You don't have a great one already mate, trust me." She was beginning to enjoy taking the wind out of this prat's sails.

"_Charming_. Remind me why I'm helping you again?" he countered, childishly.

"From where I'm standing, you ain't helping one bit mate." She smirked as he narrowed his eyes at her. Oh, he was really going to enjoy the look on her face when she finally realised what a prize tit she had made of herself. He almost felt sorry for her.

"Let me spell this out to you Dawes, since you seem to be as big of a fuckmuppet as my old friend when it comes to this." She looked interested this time. _Good._

"Charles isn't married."

She gawped. _One nil, Chris._

"He got divorced last year. Saw sense, thank fuck."

_Game over._

It was enough to completely floor her, and he felt a wave of satisfaction on behalf of his friend at the amount the news seemed to affect her. "Oh shit" she breathed, aghast, as her face paled.

"Oh shit indeed. You do realise that the man is _pathetically_, _out of his head, makes me ashamed to be his best mate,_ crazy about you?" He rubbed it in, cranking her guilt levels to maximum.

"Oh bollocks. I mean, _shit_! I was a total bitch to him!" she stuttered between sentences.

Her panic levels were rising; she struggled to breathe as her embarrassment rose. Her cheeks burned scarlet as she recalled just how harsh she had been.

"I know how he feels now. That's a fucking sharp tongue you've got on you Dawes." She looked horrified, and he took some pity on her. "You two are perfectly matched, both as deranged as each other." He meant every word, Charles had finally met his match. Rebecca was no fun; whereas he was looking forward to more verbal spats with this girl!

"Oh god. This is really bad." She couldn't stop thinking about how badly she had treated him; the crushed look on his face as she stormed away.

"No Dawes, what's _really_ bad is that I am stuck out here, the only fucking voice of reason with yet another lovesick fool" he continued as she tried to forget the nauseous feeling in the pit of her stomach. "Now, can I trust you to put this to one side until this mission is over and I can get us back to Bastion; preferably without our shitting heads being blown off by some suicidal insurgents on the way?"

"Yes sir" she couldn't risk looking up. She was too mortified by this whole discussion.

"Excellent. Glad to fucking hear it" he clapped his hands together as he moved to depart the room.

"Just one more thing Sir?" she sheepishly added as he strode towards the door.

"Jesus, Dawes, learn to quit while you're ahead" he muttered as he turned back to face her. "What is it?"

She was even quieter this time. "Sorry I called you his boyfriend."

"Let's not discuss that again Dawes. Wouldn't want Charles to boot my balls when I put you up on a charge."

:::::

**AN - Sooo. Molly finally knows the truth (thanks Chris!). What could possibly happen to throw a spanner in the works this time?! Would we like to see more of jealous Captain James?**

**On a serious note, I would really love feedback, as I'm having some doubts as to how to take this one forward and finish it off. Bearing in mind that this is a T rated story, I'm happy to keep the details(!) moving towards the conclusion more tame. I could however, re-rate the story if there's an appetite to be a bit more descriptive..! I would love to know preferences!**

**As always, I really appreciate that you have all been so lovely about this story. I really hope that you continue to enjoy.**


	8. Chapter 8

**AN - thanks again for all of your lovely comments on the last chapter. Please continue to read and review, the feedback is a lovely motivation to keep writing! I have come to the conclusion that I will probably end up re-rating the story to an M, although we are not quite at that stage yet..! I hope you enjoy the update!**

::::::::

Charles observed the chaos around him as he took his place, alone, at the officers' table in the mess tent. The tent was filled with men, the loud hum of conversation and banter flowing around him.

It was a swelteringly hot day, the heat not faltering, even in the early evening shade. It had been a trying day from beginning to end, and his usually unflappable demeanour in the face of stress was fast fading. A plate full of gravy covered mush sat in front of him. He pushed it away, unable to look at it without feeling his stomach turn with worry and nausea. He had spent the course of the day so far alternating between rage and sullen withdrawal, neither of which had subsided.

He knew that he was being a royal pain in the arse. He also knew that the lads in the platoon were speculating wildly about what on earth had happened to put him in his current foul mood, but he could currently care less.

They had been gone for _36 hours._ Not that he was counting the hours one by one as they slowly passed by. _Nope._

36 hours with no news, no sign of any imminent return. _What the fuck was going on?_ He had dared to broach the topic only once with Beck, that morning, whilst trying his very hardest to appear as casual and nonchalant as possible. He had been given no answers, of course. To make matters worse, the eyebrows of the major had been raised briefly, clearly curious as to why any questions were even being asked about the mission. Charles had passed off his queries as concern about Chris; he was his oldest friend after all. Hopefully he had convinced him. The last thing he needed was Beck asking questions about why he was pining after his medic like a lovesick puppy.

Not that Beck would actually ask any questions; he would just pack him on the first plane home, particularly if he knew just how deep Charles had fallen into this. Beck had specifically asked him to make sure she didn't get involved with a member of her platoon, never mind her CO. If he got so much of a whiff of the situation, they would both be in deep trouble.

_He was officially out of options._ He wasn't sure what was worrying him more; the thought that Chris wouldn't be protecting her, or that he would be protecting her far too much in order to try and seduce her. He knew realistically that all that mattered was that they both made it back in one piece, and he was reasonably sure deep down that Chris wouldn't do anything, but his male pride was in tatters regardless. She had effectively finished things between them before taking off on a special ops mission with the biggest womaniser on the planet. Of course he was feeling wounded. He had no idea if this thing between them would ever even get off of the ground. She had made it perfectly clear that she was furious with him; for reasons he had no understanding of.

But there was nothing he could do about any of it at the moment. He would just have to sit tight, and pray they arrived back sooner rather than later. When she was back they could hopefully try and figure out what on earth was going on between them. He knew it was the only course of action, but it wasn't helping him to find any peace whilst the time passed.

He had taken the remainder of 2 section for a PT session that afternoon, hoping that the intensity of the session he had planned would be enough to distract his mind for at least a couple of hours. No such luck though; all he was provided with was a barrage of questions from the lads about where Molly was, and when she was coming back.

_If only he knew._

::::::

"Dawes. _Wake the fuck up_!" Chris whispered forcefully as he shook her.

"Wh-" she shook her head groggily as she sat bolt upright. She had fallen asleep whilst propped against the makeshift wall on the sandy desert floor where they were hidden from sight. They had been here for a whole day, watching and waiting for the target to arrive. Their fellow soldiers were scattered in various positions around them, all surrounding the specific area they had been told that the target would be visiting at some point during that day.

Her body ached; she was knackered. But she managed to compose herself quickly, her adrenaline kicking in when she realised something was moving.

_This was it._

"What's going on?" she whispered as she crawled on her front to join him at the spot where he now crouched, watching and waiting.

"Target's here. Get your weapon and get in position." Chris' brow furrowed in concentration as he moved to watch the target approaching through a set of binoculars. He continued to speak quietly into his radio headset, communicating with the team of men scattered around them in various different locations, all of whom had eyes on the target, who had now appeared in the distance before them. He was dressed in long, traditional clothing, and was surrounded by four other men, all bearing rifles.

This wasn't part of the plan; they had been told there would be no more than one other companion with him. They hadn't reckoned on this much of a crowd. "_Shit_", Chris muttered under his breath.

"I need a positive ID on this fucker before I can authorise a shot. They're surrounding him, I can't get a clear view." He continued to peer through the binoculars at the group of men in the distance. Molly was reassured that he didn't look panicked, despite the unexpected change in circumstances.

"It's him boss. 100%. I know it." a voice crackled down the headset, providing the confirmation he had requested."

Chris wasn't convinced though. "Hold your fire. Wait out. Something's not right here, I can feel it."

The group of men continued to approach. Molly's heart caught in her throat when she realised just how close they were getting. The group of insurgents were heading straight for Chris and Molly, with purpose, as if they somehow knew exactly where the two were hiding out.

Molly felt herself hold a steady grip of her weapon, the heavy steel in her arms, cold against her chin; ready for the exact second that the boss gave the order to proceed. The moment was edging closer and closer as the men approached. She no longer felt the nerves; adrenaline was coursing through her body. She was 100% focussed.

Suddenly, everything moved at one time.

The approaching targets reached for their weapons at precisely the same time as Chris came to his senses and yelled down the radio, taking aim with his rifle. "_Fuck_. They know we're here. We've been made. Take them, lads. _Go. Go. Go_!"

The next three minutes felt like they passed in ten straight seconds; a hail of bullets unleashed on the group of insurgents from five different directions. Molly felt her rifle shake under her small body as it came to life underneath her, discharging bullet after bullet as she let the rounds go.

Four of the five in the group of men had fallen to the ground, taken down by the oncoming bullets. The original target had been protected by his men and remained on the deck, uninjured and crawling, using his elbows for leverage, getting closer and closer to Molly and Chris. He was undeterred by the commotion around him, and firing from an AK-47 with ferocious speed. She could see the venom in his eyes; he was now so close to them. Molly crouched lower and reached for the pistol she carried in her med bergen, all ammunition from her rifle now discharged. The target took notice that the gunfire from Molly had ceased, and that she had disappeared from sight. Assuming that she no longer posed a threat, he turned his attention to Chris, rifle aimed straight at his head.

There was no notion of time. Seconds ticked by as Molly raised her head again and took aim with the small pistol. Every muscle in her body tightened, every nerve focussed towards what she was about to do. It wasn't her first kill.

_This was the moment. She knew._ Her finger pressed the trigger at exactly the right instant. She felt the force of the speed at which the bullet released from the chamber and flew through the air. _A perfect shot._ She had taken the target out.

The force of the moment finally impacted on her, and, once sure of the kill, she felt her knees buckle beneath her body, collapsing against the tiny concrete wall she had been using for shelter and support. Chris was momentarily lost for words and lay still on the ground, chest heaving as he recovered from the very near miss, and checked on the radio that all of his soldiers were present and accounted for. The response was affirmative, and he closed his eyes, still laid out on the floor appreciating the glorious moment of relief for a minute.

After a couple of minutes of complete silence, he uttered his first words.

"Fuck me. That's a hell of a shot you've got on you Dawes."

"Careful boss. That sounded an awful lot like a compliment." Molly tried to recover her faltering breaths and still her limbs as the shakes kicked in, an automatic nervous reaction to the discharge of so much adrenaline at once.

Chris, with much more experience of such situations, had recovered his senses more quickly and he sat up. "Don't get too carried away, I wouldn't want your head to get too big."

She chuckled, glad to have normality restored after the life or death situation. "Might have known you'd be ungrateful to get your arse saved Sir!"

"Jesus, Dawes-" he muttered as he continued to compose himself "-taking a bullet might have been less painful than listening to you gloat about saving me."

She made a face as she put her pistol back in the holder, still shaking like a leaf. "_Whatever_."

Chris sniggered "_Whatever_? What kind of comeback is that? I'm _almost_ disappointed in you."

"That makes two of us then" he looked at her questioningly before she finished her statement. "I'm _almost_ disappointed that I just stopped that wanker from putting a bullet in your brain."

"Touché, Dawes. That's more like it. I'll make a competitor of you yet."

::::::

They were finally able to get back to Bastion. Molly could barely wait to return; she was desperate to find Charles and apologise for the way she had treated him. After Chris had revealed the truth to her, she had been re-playing her final conversation with him, mentally torturing herself by re-enacting the stunned expression on his face as she tried to hurt him as badly as she herself had been hurt. It still mortified her to even think about it. She was so worried that she had blown it. All she wanted was to find him, and tell him how she really felt. He had made it so clear how much she meant to him, and she had ruined it all by jumping to conclusions.

She tried to concentrate on the inventory as she packed up the medical equipment from the compound. They would be leaving for Bastion in the next hour. The other thing she didn't want to think about was the fact that she had just killed a man. It wasn't her first kill, but it unnerved her regardless. Yes, she was under orders, and from reading the list of crimes he had committed, the world would be a better place without him. If she hadn't acted, Chris would be the one that was dead. But she couldn't help but feel unsettled by the feeling she had taken a life. _She was here to save lives, not take them_.

She was disturbed from her thoughts by Chris approaching. He looked thoughtful, and she knew by now that it was an unusual look for him. She had enjoyed getting to know him a bit better on this mission. He was a complete prat most of the time, but talking with him made her feel closer to Charles. It gave her a little sense of peace while she was away from him.

He cleared his throat, pacing nervously. "Right Dawes. I'm going to say this once and once only."

That got her attention. "Boss?"

He looked like he was trying to physically force the words from his mouth. _What the fuck was wrong with him?_ "Thank you" he muttered under his breath.

_Ah, that's what's wrong with him_. "Thank you for what?" she sniggered, savouring the moment.

He looked at the ground, speaking in a low tone "For saving my arse out there."

She laughed at his ungracious attempt at a thank you. "It's alright. I'm sure I'll live to regret it in the future. But thanks for saying it."

Suddenly, normality was restored and he morphed back to his usual self. "Right. Glad that's over!" He looked at her, hurriedly changing the topic of conversation to put her on the back foot. "Back to more important matters. What the fuck are you going to do when we get back to Bastion to make up for being a total bitch to Charles?"

_That cheeky wanker_. "Oi. One minute I'm getting a thanks for saving your arse, now you're calling me a bitch?"

He gave no more acknowledgement to his apology. "Roll with the punches Dawes, the conversation's moved on. And you admitted being a bitch already. So?" He raised an eyebrow, waiting for a response.

The roles had switched suddenly. Her previous sense of embarrassment and upset at the whole episode was restored, and she couldn't quite work out what to say. She spoke quietly "I dunno. He might not want anything to do with me." Not if he's got _any sense,_ her subconscious added.

"Don't be an idiot. We both know that's not the case. As I've already told you, he's head over heels. It's quite pathetic really, I've lost all respect for him."

"Do you mean it?" she asked quietly. She wouldn't blame him if he never wanted to see her again.

"That I've lost respect? Not really; never really had much in the first place!" he joked, knowing exactly what she meant. She looked at him, waiting for him to answer her actual question. He could see the tears gathering in her eyes. She looked devastated.

This time he grudgingly repeated himself "Bloody hell Dawes, don't try and terrify me with your tears. Yes, he's _crazy_ about you. The amount of times I've had to trail back to that fucking club with him to try and find you!" He was incredulous that she was still struggling to grasp the fact that his friend had fallen for her.

She somehow felt even more guilty. "I'm head over heels for him an' all". She really was. She just wanted to be with him; _it was that simple_. There was nothing like a near death experience to reinforce what was important.

"I should bloody think so too. And since the pair of you are so fucking useless at telling each other that, I have a plan which I think will work.." He looked proud at the last statement.

_Now he had her attention._ "You have a_ plan_?". She was dubious, but at least interested in what he had to say.

"Yes. As my dear departed father used to say, 'I am a man with a plan'!" He wiggled his eyebrows cunningly.

She couldn't help but giggle "you absolute tosser."

He feigned hurt, clutching at his chest before she eventually gave in. "Well, let's hear it then?"

::::::::

After a miserable day, Charles had finally decided to call it a night and try to get some sleep. He knew it would be a pointless effort given how haywire his brain felt; but he knew he had to try and carry on some sense of normality. The whole platoon couldn't come to a grinding halt just because it's captain was struggling to cope.

He changed into shorts and t-shirt and tried to soothe his thoughts into some sense of normality so that he could switch off and get a few hours of rest. His imagination had been in overdrive for the past two days; concocting all sorts of scenarios where Molly wouldn't return to him. It was getting ridiculous. Not for the first time today, he felt a lone, hot tear sweep down his cheek, and he wiped it away roughly, angry with himself for becoming so involved. _This was precisely the reason why he shouldn't be in charge of Molly_; his entire sense of happiness was increasingly wound up in her.

There was a quick rap on the door, and he jumped from his bed as the door swung open, the visitor not bothering to wait for a response to allow them to enter.

His heart caught in his chest when he registered the identity of the surprise visitor.

:::::::::::::::

**AN2 - Sorry that there wasn't a huge amount of MD/CJ interaction here, but I really want to show their journey back to each other, as well as enjoying the inevitable reunion. Next update, they will finally be in the same room again! Please let me know what you think!**


	9. Chapter 9

**AN - sorry to leave you waiting after a cliff-hanger. Thanks for the reviews and messages asking me to get a move on and let you know who is behind the door - read and (hopefully..!) enjoy. I really hope you all like this - I have been working on a pretty long update, but have cut it in half and posted part 1 of it below. I hope to have another chapter up soon (probably tomorrow), so please don't hate me when you get to the end (it's a bit cliffhanger again), I won't leave it too long to update!**

**PS - Thank you so much for all of your lovely comments! I love reading reviews, and they do help when trying to take the story forward, and acting as motivation, so thanks for being so forthcoming with your opinions.**

**:::::**

_His heart caught in his chest when he saw the surprise visitor._

_::::::_

_"What are you doing here?"_

It was Chris, standing alone, looking grimy and utterly exhausted. Despite his haggard appearance, he had a glint in his eyes, and when he looked at Charles he smiled; a full, self-satisfied grin which Charles didn't like the look of. _Not one bit._

He felt all sorts of emotions permeate his consciousness at once, and before he could make an attempt to filter through the sheer amount of questions whirring through his brain, Chris began-

"Before you start hitting the roof about why I'm here on my own. She's fine." he explained.

"She's ok?" His rapid breaths began to return to a slightly more normal pattern; his heart, which had been galloping furiously, beginning to recover. He could now move to his next question "where is she?". _He had to see her._

"She's in my quarters. I told her to wait out there for now."

_So much for feeling relieved._

His stomach plummeted "She's in your quarters? What the fuck is she doing in your quarters, Chris? Why would she possibly be there?" his relief was suddenly giving way to a completely irrational fear of what Chris was about to tell him. _He couldn't possibly have done this to me._

"Wow_._ Would you calm the fuck down? She's in my quarters because I'm off to give Beck the full debrief on my mission '_slash babysitting exercise_'" he added the last part with a sarcastic grin. "And as far as everybody else is concerned, we're not back in Bastion yet, so she'll get some peace in there". He cocked his head expectantly, still waiting for Charles to get the point.

It was lost on him, and confusion still reigned. "What the fuck? Have you tried it on with her?" he suddenly paced towards his friend, ready to rip into him. Chris backed away, shaking his head with mirth.

"Oh Jesus Christ! I've just about had it with the pair of you. This would be where _you_ step in, Prince Charming!" Charles looked at him warily and he continued, mainly talking to himself "I've never, ever, had to put this amount of effort in to get my own bloody leg over, god only knows why I'm doing it for you, you ungrateful prick."

Charles remained furious, still trying to figure out what the hell he was on about.

"I haven't asked you to do a thing Chris; maybe you feel guilty for getting involved and taking her god knows where on a mission and leaving me here to stew. I saw your little stunt when you put your arm around her before you left." Chris at least had the good grace to look a little guilty.

"Oh get a grip, I was winding you up. I suggest that instead of standing here wasting time arguing the toss with me, you get your arse out of here", he cocked his head toward the door.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh for fuck's sake Charles, even Sam would understand this quicker than you" he looked him straight in the eye, sick to the back teeth of this situation. "I've just come back from a mission where the intelligence received was obviously tainted, because the target arrived forewarned that we would be there. We ended up taking out five men instead of one. It was messy."

Charles fell silent. Ok, Chris had obviously not had a great time of it.

_But he still didn't get the point._

Chris continued "That means I'm going to be giving one _hell_ of an extensive mission debrief to Beck. And I'll be making sure it covers _every single little detail_ of the mission. It'll take _hours_" he emphasised carefully.

Charles, wanting to make sure he was interpreting this as he was meant to, continued to listen "and this concerns me _how_?"

"How can you _still_ not be getting the point here. Let me paint a little picture for you Charles" he placed a hand on his shoulder as he explained " I'm about to keep Beck very, _very_ busy, for the next few hours."

Charles nodded, hope flooding his senses. _Was this going where he thought it was?_

"I haven't notified anybody except you that I'm back yet, so nobody will be looking for me in my quarters. Oh and _by the way_, did I mention that Dawes is there waiting for you, all pumped full of adrenaline after a successful mission and ripe for you two to finally get your act together." Chris grinned, thoroughly pleased with his own enterprise.

Charles' heart leapt. _This was perfect._ He could finally have some time alone to speak with her: to clear up whatever had happened to make her so angry with him.

"Isn't that a nice picture Charles - aren't I a good friend?" Chris' looked thoroughly pleased with himself. Charles could have kissed him. "I knew I kept you around for a reason, you bloody genius."

"Yes I know, I'm the nuts. Off you toddle, don't keep Cinders waiting at the ball now" he shooed him from the room.

"You really are taking this Cinderella thing a bit far now Chris. What are you, the fairy godmother?" He tried not to laugh at the face of horror Chris pulled.

"You know what? You're _almost_ as funny as your girlfriend. Maybe I'll make it a _very_ short mission debrief after all." Chris glowered threateningly.

"Ahem" Charles cleared his throat hurriedly. "Point taken. I'll be off then" He almost fell over his feet in an attempt to leave the small cabin as quickly as possible.

He turned back momentarily to Chris as he left. "Thanks Chris. I mean it."

"You're welcome, even if you are an ungrateful knob." They grinned at each other, both knowing that their friendship would never change, no matter how many years passed. "I would say make sure you christen the bed, but I've done that already, the day I arrived!" Chris gave Charles a knowing look, a wide grin on his face.

Charles shook his head with horror, knowing his friend probably wasn't joking. He was gone in an instant. leaving Chris standing alone, chuckling lightly to himself,

"I do _love it _when a plan comes together."

::::::

Molly was bricking it. She had been full of confidence at the beginning, when Chris had told her of his plan to distract Beck and let them get some time alone together to properly talk, without the constant fear of being interrupted. She needed time to explain herself to him. She could count the occasions she had actually been alone with him in the last few weeks on one hand, and they needed to sort things out, face to face.

But now that they had arrived back, and Chris had gone to put '_Phase 1_' of his plan into action, she was sincerely doubting herself. He had gone to convince Charles to come to his quarters and speak with her. She wasn't sure what to expect. _Would he be furious with her?_ They hadn't exactly parted on good terms, and she wouldn't blame him if he ran a mile in the opposite direction. After all, she had run away when the going got tough, she couldn't expect him not to do the same thing.

She could feel the sense of nervousness as it built in intensity inside of her. It was multi-faceted; she wasn't just nervous of his reaction to her being back, she was nervous to be around him. Whenever she saw him, she could count on all sense of reason going completely out of the window. She almost felt like he took possession of her senses. She needed to keep a clear head, to explain why she had acted the way she had. _To make him understand how she felt about him._

She had made the most of being holed up in a captain's quarters, and had a quick shower. She had been awake for the best part of two days solid; and she needed something to refresh her, to wash away all of the dust and grime she had collected on her travels.

After she had washed and pulled her clothes back on, she sat on the bed, towel-drying the drops from her hair. It had already started to dry in places, curled in loose waves in the unrelenting heat.

She suddenly stood from the bed, remembering Chris' quip to her before he left; that her and Charles could use the bed if they wanted, but he had already christened it. She wouldn't be surprised if he wasn't joking. _Yuck_.

She was shaken from her thoughts when she suddenly heard a light rap on the door to the small cabin. Asking permission to come in.

_As if she could ever say no to him. _The door swung open before she had a chance to respond and she finally found herself face-to-face with him. Her heart leapt from the sheer pleasure of seeing him before her.

"Hi," she said simply, her insides catching alight as his dark eyes lit up. A brilliant smile radiated across her face at the sight of him. He was taken aback, this was so very different to the look on her face the last time he saw her. _What had changed?_

"Hi" he finally responded.

They both stared at each other, neither sure where to begin.

Somewhere in her brain, it registered that he was only wearing the thinnest of cotton shorts and t-shirt. It reminded her of one of the endless secret fantasies she had stored away in her brain about him since that moment when she first laid eyes on him.

_Charles James, gloriously bare-chested, clad in only a pair of shorts that hung low enough on his hips to give her a glimpse of his narrow pelvic bones, and his defined abs. He would smell amazing, and she would be free to do whatever she pleased with him; touch him, tease him, taste him._

And now, here he was looking as gorgeous as ever, in a very revealing pair of thin shorts. It was just a huge pity that he was also wearing a t-shirt, although it did fit snugly against his chest. Molly could see the outline of the well-defined muscles that lay beneath, practically begging her to run her hands over them.

None of this was helping her to formulate sentences though. _Breathe. Remember to breathe. Don't look at his chest. Or his shorts. Oh fuck, just don't look at him at all._

She fixed her gaze on the floor for a second, recalling the little speech she had mentally prepared on her way back to Bastion.

"I need to apologise." Now that she had the words prepared, she risked a quick peek at him. His eyebrows were raised in surprise, he looked pensive.

"What do you need to apologise for?"

"The way I treated you, a few days ago, before I took off. I need to explain..I..-" She couldn't tear her eyes from him. _Shit, what was the speech again?_ He was looking at her with such deep intensity that she could feel the words crumbling away.

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and went for it.

"I heard you and Major Scott talking at the medical centre. I was listening...I shouldn't have, cos he asked you how your wife was and then the door slammed shut behind you, and you were gone, and I freaked out, and..." she opened her eyes to try and gauge his response to her rambling, and trailed off as realisation began to dawn on his features.

"Oh god Molly, you've got it all wrong! I'm not bloody married, I'm divorced!"

"Well I know that now, don't I? After your mate took great pleasure in pointing out what a complete mug I'd been!" she flushed with embarrassment at the memory.

"Chris told you about Rebecca?" he silently thanked his friend for straightening this out.

"Yes, he told me about Rebecca. And about Sam. He sounds like a lovely kid by the way.." she trailed off, still feeling raw about the whole thing.

"I'm sorry Molly, I should have told you already that I was divorced, but we've been dancing around this whole thing so much that we haven't really talked" he tried to explain why he hadn't had an opportunity to tell her.

Images began to flood her brain again. Really appealing images, of things she had fantasised about for months. This time she didn't try and get rid of them quickly enough, and she felt her temperature rise. "No. There wasn't much talking the last time we were alone like this." Suddenly, she could have cut the atmosphere with a knife, as the electricity between them crackled to life.

"Molly..." His eyes darkened as he moved towards her, desperate to touch her.

She was panicking now, she wanted him so badly but she needed to make things right with him. She had to clear the air first. "No, don't. Don't look at me like that, not right now. I need to get this out, and I can't do it when you're looking at me like that, cos all I wanna do is rip your clothes off and jump you." she confessed, mortified.

He smirked. That statement hadn't dissuaded him from moving even closer to her, and her heart rate galloped furiously at his proximity. Her skin grew heated as she watched him move. She shifted uncomfortably where she stood as a familiar ache began to spread in her abdomen, reaching lower and settling between her legs. She had to concentrate on this. She closed her eyes yet again, speaking at a furious pace.

"I shouldn't have run away. I should have asked you before I went jumping to conclusions about what I'd heard. It was stupid and irresponsible to just go off and volunteer for that mission." She recited the words of apology that she had formulated earlier, missing the entertained look on his face as he watched her recite the words with her eyes firmly shut.

She sensed how much closer he had moved and dared to peek from her tightly closed eyes. He was looming over her, eyes bright with emotion but still darkened with lust. _He was just pure perfection_, and she had to wring her hands closely together to stop herself from touching him.

"Nice speech" he murmured in her ear.

"Thanks. I practised" she grinned impishly as she realised that trying to fight this was both pointless and impossible.

_You shouldn't kiss him, _a nagging voice in her head warned her. _Oh but she wanted to._

She stood completely still, eyes taking him in as he stood above her, pressed against her. He faced a similar internal battle, and, eventually electing to kiss her and damn the consequences, he pulled her even closer. His lips lingered tantalisingly over hers, not yet touching an inch of her, but waiting for her to respond to his closeness. She had to almost stand on tiptoes to reach him. She sighed and let her eyes flutter shut, enjoying the sense of anticipation that coursed through her veins. He closed the last remaining milimetres of distance between them, slid a hand around her tiny waist, and kissed her like a dying man taking his last breath.

::::::


	10. Chapter 10

**A****N - thanks a lot for your lovely comments on the previous chapter, you are all fantastic. I really, really hope that the update below doesn't disappoint anyone - just remember that your patience will be rewarded.. Just like Chris, I have a plan! **

**The chapter which follows the one below will have a little bit of a time jump; this update below is a little shorter than usual, but completes chapter 9. Hope you enjoy - please review, as it's really helpful to know if people are enjoying or not. **

**::::::**

_She stood completely still, eyes taking him in as he stood above her, pressed against her. He faced a similar internal battle, and, eventually electing to kiss her and damn the consequences, he pulled her even closer. His lips lingered tantalisingly over hers, not yet touching an inch of her, but waiting for her to respond to his closeness. She had to almost stand on tiptoes to reach him. She sighed and let her eyes flutter shut, enjoying the sense of anticipation that coursed through her veins. He closed the last remaining milimetres of distance between them, slid a hand around her tiny waist, and kissed her like a dying man taking his last breath._

He groaned deeply into her mouth as their tongues met. The intensity of the kiss had his blood boiling through his veins and rushing toward his groin.

This was incredible. It was unlike anything he had ever known. Only she could, _and did, _ever have this effect on him. He leaned down and placed his hands on her thighs; she gasped in surprise as he took control, lifting her up in his arms, before he felt his legs wobble and he pulled down for grounding, taking his place on the bed with her in his lap, her arms curled around his firm shoulders.

She met every single thrust of his tongue, her hands now slipping from his shoulders to roam over his firm chest. He kept one hand around her waist to hold her firmly in place while letting the other drift upward to cup one of her breasts tenderly through her thin t-shirt. He had dreamed about them every day since the first day he saw her. Of how full and pert they were despite her tiny frame. He still constantly remembered how her hungry response to his touch was, without a shadow of a doubt, the biggest turn on he had ever experienced in his life.

Reality turned out to be so much more satisfying than his memories and dreams, as he massaged her firmly, teasing her through the soft cloth. She briefly paused their kiss, her back arching as a quiet moan of approval left her throat. He gently tugged on her lips with his teeth, reminding her that he was still there, waiting to resume that amazing kiss. She grinned and opened her mouth completely to him, once again.

When they both began to struggle for breath, he tore his lips away, hands still kneading and teasing. He kissed his way down the smooth column of her neck, her hands now tangled in the curls on his head, and her head falling back in pleasure as he made his way slowly to her shoulder and back across her defined collarbone, trailing soft kisses. She gasped and pulled his hair roughly as he nipped lightly with his mouth on the exposed area, wishing he could bite harder but not wanting to mark her.

He still had the presence of mind to know that he should _absolutely not_ be doing this; that he was standing on quicksand, and about to be subsumed by it.

_He had to pull it back. He had to stop. _

_He would definitely stop..._

_Just one minute more though. How much harm would another minute do?_

_Plenty of harm. _She pulled tightly on his hair again, this time urging his head back upward so that their mouths could connect again. He groaned into her mouth in response to her quest for control, enjoying her aggression, and nibbled on her full, rosy lips, repeatedly capturing her bottom one with his teeth and tugging it gently before releasing it.

_He never, ever, wanted to stop kissing her. _

A fresh, furious wave of desire washed over him as he felt an impish, curious hand make its way down his chest, tracing over the muscles of his abdomen, heading lower and lower. He knew exactly where that hand was headed, getting closer and closer.

His mouth never leaving hers, Charles reached down and caught the misbehaving hand, grasping her wrist and stilling it in its tracks, just before it reached its intended destination.

He couldn't let her touch him. If she touched him, he would lose more control than he had already lost.

_They couldn't do this here. He wouldn't do this here. She deserved more than this_.

He was increasingly aware of how much this meant to both of them, and he was determined to do it right, and not to give in while they were out here. If they did this here, they would risk losing everything.

"Molly," he warned into her mouth as her fingers twitched and struggled to pull away, back to their intended destination.

"I need you" she murmured, protesting, her tongue swiping across his lips. He groaned. _She was killing him._

"No."

She pulled away in disbelief "No?" she repeated the word like a scolded child who had never heard it before, and Charles had to repress the inappropriate urge to laugh. He knew in that moment that this was it for him. _She was it for him._

"No," He pulled her back and sucked on her bottom lip one last time before releasing it. He then used every single ounce of self control he possessed to pull himself away from her. He opened his eyes to find that she was already looking at him with intense desire. That look alone almost made him give in to her right there and then, sod the consequences.

He tried to explain to her, his voice still low and husky with want, "I want you, Molly, trust me, I would love nothing more than to do this. But we're out here, and I'm your boss, and I'm taking advantage." She wasn't putting up any resistance, but she didn't look impressed either. He continued-

"-We're in a life and death situation out here. Christ, you're already exhausted from a special ops mission. If we did this now we wouldn't be giving ourselves the best chance of making it out of here alive, never mind of us making it together..." He trailed off, suddenly unsure of himself, and she just looked at him blankly. _She was offering herself to him, and he was saying no?  
><em>  
>"Trust me," he said gently, unable to stop himself from smoothing his thumb over her cheek, "You deserve so much better than that Molly. I don't want you to have any regrets about this."<p>

She didn't look convinced. He didn't want her to think he was rejecting her when he was actually doing the exact opposite. He shifted to move her from on top of him, switching things up so that he rested partially on top of her, the rest of his weight propped on his elbow. His hand was still free to wander over her body, and it did.

He looked at her with such intensity that she almost felt her insides lurch. "Trust me about this too. As soon as we're out of this godforsaken place, we will be making up for lost time." He watched the flushed expression that started to make its way up her body. He could feel the heat of her blush radiate from her as he whispered, low and full of intent and promise.

His tone became lower and deeper as his mouth ventured closer to her ear. "I'm going to do so many things to you Molly, and we _can't_ be here when I do them." She gasped underneath him, his words already having a noticeable effect on her. She could literally feel how much he wanted and needed this, he wasn't lying about wanting her. "I want you to scream my name when I..." he finished the sentence with a secret whisper in her ear, only for her to enjoy. Her cheeks couldn't burn any brighter, and she squirmed in an unsuccessful attempt to relieve herself of the increasing tension between her thighs.

He smirked. _He had made his point_. He would never reject her, for as long as he lived. _He would always want her._

"Do you trust me on this?"

"I trust you on this," she murmured softly. _This was completely new to her. _She had been with plenty of guys before but literally none of them had ever uttered words about waiting, or about her deserving better. It was always about having a quick knee trembler in the past, no thought or consideration about whether she enjoyed it, or deserved more. The way he made her feel when he spoke to her like this was something totally new. _She felt loved. Sod that, she felt adored, worshipped. _

"Good" he searched her eyes for any sign that they weren't on the same page. He found none.

He looked at her, letting his eyes drift over her swollen lips and disheveled hair, his heart pounding madly in his chest. She blushed, her whole face scarlet at the thoughts she was still having. She looked back at him, both of their gazes still dark with arousal. She leaned forward slightly, and for a second he thought that she might kiss him.

She didn't. Instead, she pushed him down further against the bed, taking her place back on top of him, and curling up in his arms.

"I know we can't do anything, but you can hold me here for a minute, can't you?" She looked up at him with big, wide eyes, full of vulnerability, like he had the power to break her. He suddenly felt the weight of his responsibility for her. She wanted to be held. She was his.

His heart swelled in his chest. _Oh god, he had it so bad_. Even the simple act of holding her in his arms had him breathless.

"Of course I can Molly" he smoothed his hands against her head soothingly and ran his fingers through her hair as they rested. Neither of them had felt anything like this before.

_How could they possibly find this sense of peace in the middle of a warzone?_

:::::

No more than an hour later, Charles began to stir from a light doze. He closed his eyes and made sure that he savoured the feel of Molly sleeping on top of him for a brief second before he opened them and kissed the top of her head, his nose catching the sweet scent of her hair. He laced his fingers through hers and brought her hand up to his lips. He placed gentle kisses on each of her fingers until she began to stir.

He hated that he had to waken her; that he had to move her, make sure they both left undiscovered. If they weren't in this situation, he would be able to hold her and never let her go. But he had to do it. If they were discovered now, there would be no way of explaining it away.

"Wake up, Molly…" he murmured softly.

She grumbled something unintelligible, making no move to open her eyes or lift her head.

"..Come on, beautiful" he tried again, a little louder this time, "We need to go."

She tilted her head up to look at him as her eyes blinked open sleepily.

"Hmm?" she asked.

He sighed lightly "We need to move. It's going to start getting light soon. It's almost dawn."

"Oh." He watched with a small smile on his face as she yawned, stretching out on top of him, and came back to her senses. _She was adorable. _She settled her eyes suspiciously on him.

"Were you kissing my hand?"

"Maybe." He pulled her hand back to his lips before he kissed it again, and she smiled.

"You're sweet."

He breathed out a soft laugh. "Thanks."

"I don't want to go." She was murmuring softly, face now buried in his chest. _She couldn't bear to leave him._ She forced herself to look at him, and he caressed the skin on her cheeks as she spoke. "How are we meant to manage this? How can I go out there and pretend that I don't feel the way that I do? I just want to be with you." She whispered as she looked up at him with glistening, worried eyes.

Charles smiled sadly. He had no answers. Instead he leaned toward her, pressing a soft, lingering kiss on her mouth.

He made the mistake of looking at her as he pulled away. The way she was looking at him, her green eyes warm and full of want, her full lips soft and rosy, made him desperate to flip her underneath him again, crush her tiny little frame under his and take complete possession of her, give her a real kiss. Demonstrate exactly how he felt about her. _But he couldn't do that. _He didn't physically have it in him to stop himself from taking it any further. It had just about given him a coronary an hour earlier when he'd had to take charge and stop things; he knew for a fact that he didn't have the willpower to do it again now.

_I love you. _

The words floated deep in his consciousness. He had been aware for some time just how deep his feelings ran, but he was having extreme problems from forcing his mouth not to utter the words out loud. It was too fast, too much. He didn't want to scare her. There were too many other elements to worry about right now. '_Do not tell her that, Charles',_ his subconscious was clear in its warning.

_Great, another thing I can't do. _He could add it to the list with kissing, touching, even looking. He had barely managed until now.

_There was no way he was going to be able to wait out for much longer, for any of it._

He knew he was in deep trouble. But he loved her anyway_._

:::::


	11. Chapter 11

**AN - thanks again for the positive response to the last chapter. I have been having a bit of an ongoing struggle with this latest update, so would be interested to hear what you think. Please R&R! **

**:::**

The day began much like the previous one hundred and twelve had in the small forward operating base in a Northern province of Afghanistan.

_One hundred and twelve days _of dusty, humid, heat being the first thing that Charles registered when he became aware of his surroundings.

_One hundred and twelve days _of sleeping in a rickety camp bed, in a tent providing around ten metres of privacy.

_One hundred and twelve days_ of Captain 'stern face' James.

_One hundred and twelve days _of forcing every muscle in his body not to betray him, of not showing every person in this place, including Molly, that he was a man completely and utterly, _and so very inappropriately_, in love.

He wasn't sure how he had managed one day, never mind one hundred and twelve of them.

_But he had. _

He was sure that somebody up there was coming up with all new ways in which to torture him. Just when he thought he was beginning to master the process of keeping a lid on the constant, torturous sense of need, love, and desperation for her that bubbled under the surface, something would always happen which threatened to blow the lid straight off of the carefully covered emotions.

_Take day sixty, for example._

Two section had been out on patrol, when Fingers had decided that it would be a marvellous idea to have a kickabout with a couple of the local lads who had been constantly pestering him for a game since their arrival. Within five minutes of starting, the ball had been kicked out of play, and upon retrieving it from its faraway spot, he had been confronted by a boy of no more than twelve years of age wielding a pistol. He had been tricked; the child was the son of an insurgent with a grudge against UK and US forces, and the boy had decided to take matters into his own hands. He was nothing more than a child, yet he was aiming a lethal weapon at Fingers' head.

To make matters even worse, _if that was possible_, Molly was the closest to the scuffle which inevitably broke out around the incident, and had decided, in her wisdom, that she would try to intervene and negotiate with the child in broken Pashto.

Charles had screamed, and shouted, and when that failed, he had downright begged down his radio headset for her _not to fucking go near them, to wait out for backup_, but she had ignored him and involved herself regardless. Molly Dawes was a force to be reckoned with. She was brave, and at times, completely foolhardy.

_And he was completely and utterly in love with her. _

Which meant that he generally spent every single waking minute terrified of what she was going to do next to put herself in danger. On day sixty, she had eventually dealt with that child. After much talking, she had taken the weapon from his trembling fingers, and comforted him as hot tears rolled down his young cheeks. Charles had watched them from afar, trembling far more than an officer ought to, heart still in his throat, _absolutely fucking furious with her_, but at the same time, falling even harder.

It didn't matter what he did, he couldn't switch his brain off from constantly wanting, needing and desiring her.

So he counted the days instead.

_One hundred and twelve down. Forty four to go._

Forty four more days of keeping a lid on this, then he would be able to breathe. And do all of the other things that he had been dreaming of.

:::::::

The morning of day one hundred and thirteen started off precisely like every single other one which had gone before it.

Molly had resolved, whilst they were stationed at the FOB, to sleep in the med tent rather than share a communal tent with the lads. She woke at her usual time of 5am, with the first chinks of daylight beginning to snake into the window of the small tent. She loved this time of the morning; not quite sunrise, but light enough for the new day to begin to sneak into her consciousness.

_He wouldn't be long now._

Every single morning, at this time, before anyone else at the FOB was awake, he snuck by the med tent with her cup of tea, always holding a travel mug with a coffee in his other hand. She was never a coffee drinker, but now whenever she smelled the bitter aroma of the drink, she would associate it with their early morning meetings. It was now familiar and comforting to her.

He would hand her a cup of tea, and they would take ten minutes to sit in the med tent and pretend they weren't a Captain and Private stationed together to fight a war in deepest Afghanistan; that they were just a young couple in love, at home, watching the sun rise together. He would intertwine his fingers with hers, and they would sit, sipping their morning drinks together. Sometimes they would talk, others they wouldn't. If there had been a particularly difficult day beforehand (day sixty one was a good example), or on days when they were finding it more difficult to keep up the pretence, then they wouldn't speak as much.

So long as they had this moment to start off the day, they could find the strength to go about the rest of the hours they would spend apart in emotional terms. Close in proximity, but keeping up the pretence that they were nothing but colleagues.

As predicted, she heard the door panel of the tent being carefully unzipped as he entered. She had woken not five minutes previously from a particularly vivid dream about him, heart pounding in her chest from how real it felt. She was ridiculously desperate for him; it had now become a running joke between them that the water could never be cold enough in the awful shower blocks at the FOB. The dream last night had been so utterly delicious that she unwittingly licked her lips as she saw the protagonist appear before her; reality _so much_ more impressive than her imagination. The sight of him combined with the early morning heat wasn't helping her to get rid of the warm, moist, heat between her legs.

She was still breathless from the memories, images continuing to linger in her head. She watched his limbs as he moved in the way only he could; those hands were holding her cup of tea now, but in her dreams they had been all over her, undressing, teasing and then bringing immense pleasure.

He knew he was in trouble as soon as he took one look at her; she was like a lioness ready to devour her prey. _Oh god, he was so not equipped for another inevitable moment where he would have to hold out on her_. It was torture; albeit the sweetest form of torture he had ever known.

He made his way to the bed; she had not yet risen from her resting position on it, and reclined, simply watching him as he moved. Not a word had been uttered yet.

He moved himself to the ground, falling to his knees so that he could get closer to her. _How very appropriate. _She had managed to bring him to his knees in every single sense of the term. He placed both drinks on the ground beside him, before taking them both by surprise with his next movement. He could have sworn he didn't intend to do it. It was so incredibly foolish considering his current quandary, but he did it anyway.

He closed the gap between their faces, hand winding through her hair and holding the back of her head so that he was bringing her face even closer to him. The intimacy between them had developed to the extent that he knew exactly what she wanted him to do next and he instinctively reached for her lower lip with his mouth, nibbling on it carefully, before releasing it and opening his mouth. What had originally been intended as a tender, early morning 'hello' kiss was forgotten, as his tongue swept into her mouth, demanding entry. She gave it to him happily, sighing contentedly into the kiss, demanding more. _This was what she needed._

It was a dangerous game though. Before his brain could filter what was happening, things had moved forward with such speed and intensity that his rational, professional side was at least ten paces behind the man who had held out for months, and who was currently pinning Molly to the bed, hands under her t-shirt and caressing her beautiful, bare breasts, teasing her nipples as she sighed and moaned contentedly.

_Fuck. He had to stop this. Now._

As soon as he registered what a complete idiot he was to start it in the first place, he forced himself to engage his brain, and pulled back, withdrawing his hands reluctantly, and letting her mouth go from the ravaging kisses he had just been bestowing on her. He silently willed the blood in his body to return to his brain, rather than other, much more needy, organs.

She was bereft as he pulled away from her. While she understood the reasons that they needed to wait out, she couldn't actually bear it any longer. It was torture, seeing him every day and not being able to touch him or kiss him. This was the furthest things had gone while they were at the FOB, and for the minute before he pulled away, she had felt so utterly complete. And it was now over, way too soon. She felt like crying with sheer frustration.

He had the good grace to at least look sheepish as he cleared his throat and tried to push his hormones to somewhere, _anywhere_, where they wouldn't threaten to overwhelm him.

"Morning" he murmured quietly, still watching her.

She sat up and withdrew her legs from her sleeping bag, hoping the movement would trigger some sort of end to the frustration she was currently feeling. He bit back a groan from the very back of his throat as her bare legs emerged from the material. She was only wearing her knickers and a tshirt under there. _What the fuck was she trying to do to him._

"Morning" was the muttered response, as she moved past him to grab her cup. "Hoping this cuppa has some sort of magical quality to calm me down after that."

_He could barely look at her. _ "Molly?"

"What?"

"I'm going to need you to put some fucking clothes on." She breathed out a small laugh at the expression of complete torture on his face as he stared at the ground.

He looked up at her when she didn't make a move to pull on something to cover her. "Seriously" he continued, shaking his head. He was trying to fill his head with anything other than the sight before him.

_Think about the drills you need to run with the lads this morning. And the meeting you need to have in the ops tent. That's it. Drills. Meetings_.

She watched his torment, trying not to laugh at the fact that he was just as affected as her, if not more.

"Aren't you enjoying the view?" She asked, maintaining her most effortless poker face as she stretched her legs out before him. She made sure to stretch the sleep from her body as she raised her hands above her head, the movement lifting her t-shirt to rest just above her belly button, exposing her lower stomach and underwear to his agonised gaze.

"Jesus Christ. Are you _trying_ to give me a heart attack" he muttered, his timbre low and very obviously affected by the sight before him. Her nipples stuck out like pebbles under the soft cotton of her t-shirt, aching for his fingers to touch them again. She squirmed at the thought, and watched him with hooded eyes.

He cleared his throat and found his grounding from somewhere, _god knows where_, because every single particle of his body was screaming at him to take her there and then. He moved to stand up, legs wobbling and ready to betray him.

"Ok. I..I need to go. Enjoy your tea" he muttered, ready to turn and walk from the tent.

"Nice to see you're standing to attention boss. I do love a keen and eager soldier.." Her gaze was directed firmly at the tent in his trousers, biting her lower lip as he let out a small chuckle at her innuendo, despite his discomfort.

_She would pay for this_. He would take great delight in thinking up new and unusual ways to torture her.

"You'll get exactly what's coming to you Dawes." He grinned wolfishly as he thought of those ways that he could torture her, leave her as desperate and needy as he currently felt. He should probably stop thinking of those things if he wanted to get rid of his current problem.

"I look forward to it, _Sir._" She gave as good as she got as he departed the tent, both anticipating just what they would be doing precisely forty four days from now.

:::::

Although day one hundred and thirteen began like any other at the FOB, it certainly didn't continue in that manner.

The platoon had carried out the morning drills successfully, and despite his earlier encounter with Molly, Charles had managed to regain a semblance of control over his rampaging emotions. He surveyed the compound as he stood at the heart of the small camp, hands on his hips, watching as his men, and his woman, carried out their various jobs before his eyes.

He was beginning to feel a sense of clarity, a vision of the light at the end of the tunnel beginning to appear. He had so many plans for the future, _for his and Molly's future,_ and he was impatient to begin them now. But, for all the reasons he had constantly repeated to himself earlier, he had to hold back. _For now_.

He didn't want to scare her with the intensity of his feelings; he was still acutely aware of the age gap between them. Whilst he was a divorcee in his early 30's, Molly was only 21, and only just beginning her army career.

That was _another_ issue to deal with; her burgeoning career. Beck's warning to him to watch her closely, and ensure that nothing happened to disturb her progress was still ringing in his ears. He knew that, as a last minute casualty replacement, it was never the intention for Molly to join his platoon in the long term. She would, in all likelihood, be returned to her previous regiment and platoon. He would eventually have to confess all to Beck, but he hoped that the moment would be far enough off in the future for him to pass it off as happening on their return to the UK, after being in his chain of command. It was another issue to deal with, but they would get through it.

He was disturbed from his contemplation of the future by the unmistakable sounds of a chopper in the distance, making its way closer and whirring overhead. It pulled nearer to the FOB, preparing to land at the side of the entrance.

A feeling of foreboding quickly took over his senses. There could only be two reasons that a chopper was landing; either the ASF were needed at short notice for some reason which he hadn't been informed of yet, or some sort of unannounced visitor was landing. _Either one of those options inevitably meant trouble._

He sought out his ANA counterpart, Cpt Azzizi, who was equally bemused by the appearance of the chopper. Clearly, judging by his surprise, there was no question of the ASF landing. _Surprise visitor it was, then._

He watched from the entrance as Kinders made his way to the now landing helicopter to meet the mystery visitor. By now, the presence of the chopper was attracting attention from the group of soldiers, all of whom were bored by the limited company they were currently keeping, and curious as to what was currently going on.

Kinders met the soldier who leapt from the chopper, carrying full kit, and accompanied him to the entrance, keeping with protocol and ensuring at all times that no surprise insurgents were lying in wait to strike. When the men had safely entered the perimeter of the compound and pulled their helmets from their head, he registered, with complete and utter surprise, the identity of the man who had just arrived.

It was Chris.

_Only it wasn't Chris. _This version of his best friend looked worried, not to mention completely exhausted. He had the unmistakable look of a man who was trying his hardest to appear composed. It might not have been noticeable to those who weren't as well acquainted with him as Charles was, but he instantly knew that something was very wrong with his friend.

"Chris? What on earth are you doing here?"

Chris looked directly at him; no jokes, no witty banter to greet him, just looked straight at him with a blank expression.

"Hi Charles"

_Ok, now he was seriously concerned_. His brain galloped at one thousand miles an hour as he tried to think up some perfectly rational reason why his best friend would land at a FOB in the middle of nowhere, completely unannounced. _He had none._

Chris finally gathered himself enough to speak, simple and non committal. "Could we have a word please?"

"Ok. We can have a word, and then you can tell me why you're acting like a complete robot."

Chris flinched as the two men walked towards the ops tent, and right there and then Charles realised that he probably didn't want, _under any circumstances, _to know whatever was about to be dropped on him. If it had been enough to render Chris, his unshakeable, unbearably annoying best friend into this shell, then it was something he absolutely did not want to know. He had a feeling he had no choice though.

As they moved out of earshot, Chris lowered his voice, and uttered the words that Charles definitely didn't want to hear.

"Where's Dawes?"

:::::

Molly had witnessed the entire scene from the confines of the entrance to the med tent. She could see that Charles was looking for somebody, and guessed that it may be her from the downright look of worry she saw in his eyes. Chris didn't look right either, and she wondered what the hell was going on.

Her eyes met his, and he cocked his head towards the ops tent, indicating that she was needed there. She followed on behind the two men, increasingly curious as to what was happening. _Whatever it was, it didn't appear to be good. _

She entered the tent shortly after them, not missing much of the conversation as far as she could tell. She had been on the verge of trying to initiate some banter with Chris, having not seen him for months, but one look at his face told her not to bother. He was ashen-faced, looking anywhere but at Charles. Eventually, he spoke up, addressing Molly first.

"Alright Dawes?"

"Yes Sir. Bit surprised to see you out here mind you." She didn't want to overstep the mark and ask exactly why he was here, but it was currently the elephant in the room. Or the tent, in this case.

"Ok, well I'll stop pissing about and get to the point." He looked weird, infact he looked pained, and Charles didn't look much better. He clearly wasn't looking forward to whatever it was that his friend was about to say.

"Beck asked me to come out. The JCCC have granted you compassionate leave." He looked at the ground as he spoke. Molly felt her stomach lurch. _Oh god, what had happened?_

"What the fuck, Chris?" Why have they granted Molly compassionate leave? And that doesn't explain why you're here?"

"It's not for Molly, Charles. It's for you. I'm here to take your place. The chopper is waiting to take you back to Bastion, then back home."

His stomach lurched further than he thought possible as he paled, and he felt Molly grab him, providing support without needing to be asked.

Chris looked up, took a breath and uttered the sentence he had been dreading saying since he woke up that morning and heard the news for himself.

"I'm so sorry to have to tell you this Charles" he looked close to tears as he continued. "It's your father. He passed away."

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	12. Chapter 12

**AN - hello! Have had some requests to speed the updates up! Please bear with me - real life getting in the way of ff writing, unfortunately! I hope you enjoy the latest chapter, and reviews are always appreciated! Thanks to everyone for their feedback so far!**

**::::::**

_Ten days later.._

...

The two men sat on opposing ends of the table, debating their current quandary, back and forth. It had been a long discussion, neither man willing to back down from his point of view. A sense of frustration began to permeate the air, as the older man began to realise that he couldn't shut this down as effectively as he would like to. The younger man sat, arms folded, leaning back in his chair, totally confident in his assertion.

"She's fragged."

"Chris" Major Beck sighed resignedly as he leaned forward. "I am _not_ doing this. I'm already down an officer."

"With all due respect, _Sir_" he clearly didn't mean the term, merely paying lip service to the fact that this was his boss sitting in front of him. "I don't think you have a choice."

Beck had been rendered silent for a moment, so Chris continued "She's a military cross holder; been on two tours within a few months of each other, and has saved countless lives. I include my own life in that list. And she's completely and utterly fragged."

More silence. _He was beginning to sense a chink in Beck's insistence, he could tell._

"We're back at Bastion, with replacement medics all over the shop. A whole hospital full of them. There's five weeks of this tour left, less if you include decompression. Realistically, she's not needed anymore."

Beck looked thoughtful.

_Almost there. Time to lay it on thick._

He continued with his monologue. "If top brass are as impressed with her as you say they are, they're really not going to be impressed that she's been kept here." He looked him straight in the eye and continued. "Not when she could have had an early discharge, some time to go home and recuperate from the stress of a second tour. A second tour which she _volunteered _for."

_Oh, that got him where it hurts. _

"Her volunteering helped you out of a very sticky spot, didn't it Sir?"

He was using every trick in the book now, and could detect the very slight flinch in the Major as he sat. _Go on Chris._ His subconscious continued to will him forward.

"It would be a _real_ shame if she ended up leaving the Army without fulfilling _all of that potential_, just because she was so fragged that she couldn't continue." Chris shook his head as he spoke, willing the Major to concede the point.

Beck looked crestfallen.

_He had him. Emotional blackmail was the way to go then._

"I think it would reflect well upon all of us Sir, if we showed a little bit of compassion here. She needs R&R. All I'm proposing is that her leave begins a month earlier than it was supposed to."

_Gotcha._

A sigh emanated from Beck as he sat back, defeated.

"Send her in."

::::

Molly sat on the most uncomfortable plastic chair, perched outside Beck's office. She drummed her fingers nervously against the plastic exterior of the seat. She was trying to do anything to rid herself of the nervous tension which was currently building within her body.

They had only been back at Bastion for a week. It could have been a year. Even longer was her enforced separation from Charles. That fateful day where Chris landed at the FOB and blew everything apart with his news had been ten days ago, and so much had happened since then, that she felt like she had barely drawn breath.

Charles had been absolutely torn apart by Chris' revelation. There were no tears at that stage, he had obviously gone straight into shock. There was barely any time to say goodbye, or to say anything really. In any case, she didn't have a clue what to say that would give him any comfort. She was completely and utterly out of her depth with this. The chopper had been waiting to whisk him away, with Chris left to explain to the platoon exactly what had happened, and deliver the news that he was now acting as their temporary CO, and would oversee their departure from the FOB and return to Bastion within a few days. The men had been expecting to be pulled back at any time, but the speed at which everything began to move came as a surprise. Most of them were happy to be going back to the relative safety of Bastion, and didn't voice any issues with the sudden change in leadership. They were all gutted for their Captain.

Molly was grateful that they had at least had a small amount of time for a private goodbye; Chris had excused himself for precisely two minutes after delivering his message, knowing that the two needed some time alone, albeit momentary. Molly had simply held him, no words passing between the two. It had been over in a flash, and Chris returned to escort Charles straight to the chopper, giving him a consoling hug as he left him. As she had watched the helicopter pull away from the FOB, blades whirring in the air, Molly caught his gaze as he sat, shell-shocked and devastated. She felt like her heart was being wrenched from her chest as she watched it take off into the sky, taking him further away from her. She felt the pressure in her chest, but had forced herself not to cry in front of the others, making her way back to the medical tent so that she could quietly sob in privacy.

Her world had, yet again, spun on its axis. She had no idea what to do, or how to cope without him. The only thing that had been keeping her going for the last ten days was Chris' insistence that they came up with a plan to try and get her home so that she could be there to support him. She was more selfish than that; she needed him. Staying apart for any longer simply wasn't an option.

She was swiftly pulled back from her thoughts, and memories of that fateful day, when the office door swung open. Chris was walking out with his head firmly down, hands in his pockets, his posture defeated.

_Shit. It hadn't worked._

She had known deep down that this was the likely outcome, but she had hoped nevertheless. He made his way over, crouching down so that they were face to face as she sat in the chair. He finally looked up at her, a gleam in his eyes, smirk on his face.

"It only fucking worked, Dawes" he whispered excitedly, keeping his voice down so that it wouldn't transmit into Beck's office.

Her heart leapt at his statement, and she felt a grin pull across her face. _Shit, how long had it been since she had smiled? It now felt foreign to her._ She had been absolutely convinced when they put their heads together after returning to Bastion, and he came up with this idea that it was doomed to failure, but Chris was confident that he could talk the Major round to his way of thinking. Apparently he had an endless ability to charm and bullshit, because it had actually worked.

"Now, you just need to keep up your end" he warned.

She nodded, remembering all that they had discussed, as Chris continued his pep talk. "Keep it like we discussed, short and sweet. If all else fails, just fucking cry. That'll put the shitters right up him; he's a typical public schoolboy, terrified of emotion."

If the positive outcome of this plan hadn't been everything that she needed right now, she would have burst out laughing at the intensity on his face as he drilled the requirements into her. They had already been through this on several occasions, she knew what she needed to do. She would do this for Charles.

_He needed her. And she needed him just as badly._

::::

It was a sodden April day in Bath, as Charles sat at the back door of his parent's opulent townhouse under the grey sky, watching the heavy raindrops fall on the beautifully tended garden. That garden had been his father's pride and joy. How much longer before it became unkempt and wild in his absence?

He couldn't let that happen, he would need to think about getting a gardener to come in and keep it tidy. His mother certainly wouldn't be up to thinking about it. She had been a complete and utter wreck since the moment he got home, and he was trying his utmost to keep it together for her sake.

He was astounded at the transformation that had taken place in his life over the past ten days. Things had changed beyond all recognition. One minute he was in deepest Afghanistan, daring to think about life beyond the tour, daring to imagine what the future held for him and Molly. Within half an hour, everything had imploded.

The news had been the last thing he had ever expected to hear. His father was a rock in his life, and always had been. He was a fit, healthy man in his early 60's. When Charles had arrived back in the UK, after almost an entire day of travelling, and the pain of not knowing, he had finally heard the full story.

Richard James had gone to bed one evening, brushed his teeth, kissed his wife of 35 years goodnight, and gone to sleep. _Just like every other night of his life_. Only this time, he hadn't woken up again the next morning. Charles' mother had woken up beside his lifeless body, tears desperately falling from her cheeks as she tried to revive him, and suddenly, life had been changed irrevocably.

It was a massive heart attack. They had finally concluded that this was the case after all sorts of tests, eventually confirming the cause of death. Charles and his mother had at least been reassured by the assertion from every medical professional they had been in contact with, that it would have been quick and painless. It didn't change the horrendous fact that they would never see him again though. The swift and sudden nature of his passing was so very cruel; no chance to say goodbye, or to really appreciate the very special man that his father had been while he was still alive.

The funeral was in two days time. Because of the sudden nature of his death, there had been various formalities with the coroner which needed to be dealt with. Charles hoped beyond hope that the funeral would bring some sense of closure, for himself and for his mother. He wasn't sure how long he could carry on in this state of limbo. He was heartbroken, but trying his very hardest to keep it together.

He couldn't bring himself to think of how much he was missing Molly. It was compounding his pain to an almost unbearable degree. He was making the very most of his Army 'stiff upper lip' training to maintain an image of strength during the day while his mum crumbled. He needed to be strong for Sam as well. He was only 7 years old, and couldn't quite grasp the fact that he would never see grandpa again, or that his grandma was so utterly lost. Rebecca had been here with Sam a lot, trying to help, but it was just getting awkward now. They had very little to talk about beyond Sam or his parents. He hoped she would back off when the funeral was over and done with. Right now, he had to focus on maintaining some sort of day to day composure for his mother and Sam. He was just about managing to do that so far.

The nights were a different story though. He couldn't sleep, no sense of peace to be found anywhere. For the last nine nights he had lain in his childhood bed, surrounded by memories, yet unable to use any of it to find any calm. His whole body felt heavy and useless, like it was in pain. The only time it hadn't felt that way since Chris had delivered the awful news, was during those brief two minutes where Molly had held him wordlessly in her arms before he left the FOB for good. He needed to be back in her arms again.

_He needed her._

If the last ten days had taught him anything, it was that he only had a finite number of days on this earth. If he had to spend many more of them without Molly Dawes, then he might just crumble into pieces.

::::

Formalities with Beck concluded, Chris accompanied Molly to the base where she would begin her journey home. They walked in tandem, both still amazed that their plotting had actually succeeded. Beck had been almost apologetic when he had called her into the office to confirm that he would approve her early leave. _God only knows what guilt trip Chris had put on him. _Right now she didn't care. It had worked.

"Right Dawes. I've done all I can, the rest is up to you now." He was genuinely pleased that there was something he could do to help Charles. He had felt so helpless that focussing his energies on getting Molly home had given him a renewed sense of purpose. The funeral would be taking place the day after next. If all went well, she would make it back on time to support him.

"Thanks for all your help Chris. Maybe you're not such a bellend after all." She lapsed into the easy banter that always flowed between them. It was much easier to mask her emotions with insults, and she knew Chris understood how grateful she was.

"I'll ignore that blatant attempt to undermine my authority, you tosser" he chuckled as he led her to the plane. "Anyway, I owed you one didn't I?"

She looked at him quizzically.

"Insurgent with a rifle aimed at my head? You did the honours and, oh, what was it? '_Saved my sorry arse'_ I believe you put it at the time."

She nodded, remembering the day of that mission. It felt like another life.

"Let's just call it a long overdue thank you. You've used your favours now though." He smirked as he added a disclaimer "Well, unless you ever get sick of Charles and decide you need a real man."

She let out a small laugh. _He was unbelievable_. "I won't tell him you said that."

Chris grinned and let out a small chuckle as he thought of his friends' likely reaction. "He'd expect nothing less of me."

The pair hugged awkwardly before she picked up her pack, ready to depart Afghanistan yet again. This was completely different from the end of her last tour. Then, she had been sad to leave. She had felt like her job was incomplete. Now, she knew that her future lay elsewhere. She was going somewhere that she was needed more than in Afghanistan.

She was going _home_, in every sense of the word.

:::::


	13. Chapter 13

**AN - firstly, THANK YOU to those of you who have read, reviewed, or commented on this story so far. I really enjoy and appreciate the feedback. I just wanted to let you know where I'm heading with this. The way I have planned it, there will be another three chapters of the story to go (that includes the chapter below) plus an epilogue. So, I plan to finish it up at chapter 16. **

**AN2 - thanks for all the lovely comments about Chris' character in this story. Chris will be back at a later stage, but not until the very end, I'm afraid! I'm glad that you all enjoyed him though, and hopefully you will enjoy his final part in proceedings! **

**Couple more authors notes at the end - sorry to babble! As ever, reviews are always appreciated! **

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The graveyard was grey and desolate, the raindrops falling thick and fast upon the crowd as they stood on the sodden grass surrounding the graveside. Molly watched from a distance. _Why couldn't she force her feet to make the last journey to the group? _She had travelled for almost two days solid, from Afghanistan, to Cyprus; then Cyprus to Brize Norton, through delay after delay. She had only just had time to make the very brief journey home to London to drop off her kit and get changed into suitable black clothing before catching a train to Bath. This was the final step in the long journey. All she had to do was walk from the path that she currently stood, and make her way to the graveside. _But something was stopping her._

She couldn't decipher where in the crowd he stood, all of the large umbrellas combining to create a shield from the unrelenting pouring rain. She stood under a large oak tree for shelter, heels sinking into the muddy grass, cursing her decision to wear them, and her long black, belted wool coat which was now soaked through. She had rushed to get ready and travel to Bath so quickly that she hadn't really considered the weather conditions.

After the heat of the desert, the cold, damp chill in the church grounds was howling through her wet clothes, leaving her massively uncomfortable and shivering.

Suddenly, the group parted before her, and her breath caught in her throat as she took in her first glimpse of him. He stood holding a massive black umbrella, his suit and black tie partially covered by a black jacket. It was the first time she had seen him in his civvies since the night they first met, almost a year ago now. The thick waves which usually sat on his head were a little curlier than usual as a result of the damp weather conditions. His right hand rested on the shoulder of a little boy stood in front of him. There was no question in her mind that it must have been Sam. The child was an almost exact replica of him, with the same dark brown eyes and wavy hair. He even wore the same suit, a black tie round his tiny neck.

The family picture was made complete by the woman currently standing under the umbrella with them, to Charles' left. She was around the same age as him, a picture of elegance, blonde hair swept up in a french roll. She wore a black dress with a matching jacket, a row of pearls around her neck. Her arm was linked through the arm Charles was using to hold up the umbrella, her other hand placed on Sam's shoulder, mirroring Charles. They looked like a perfect family. There was another, older woman, who Molly assumed must he his mother, standing to the right of Charles, being supported by a companion who was similar in age.

Molly felt a sudden jolt as she took in the picture in front of her. _What on earth had she been thinking, coming here? _She was a stranger to these people, this was a picture which she didn't recognise in the slightest. She tried to bat away the nagging voice inside of her head that whispered repeatedly about the woman who stood under that umbrella with Charles. She knew it was Rebecca, she didn't need it confirmed. She tried to maintain her firmest, most sensible inner voice, reassuring herself that she was glad he at least had somebody to lean on during this time. She hadn't been here for him, after all.

She tried desperately not to think about what other comfort Rebecca might have been providing to him, jealousy clawing at her insides. _Maybe the tragedy of losing his father had forced him to reexamine the breakup of his marriage?_ She shook her head, willing herself not to be so bloody stupid. She knew it was irrational, and selfish of her to grudge the fact that he was clearly leaning on his ex-wife for support. She couldn't bear to watch the scene for much longer though. She was finally broken from her reverie when she witnessed the obvious upset in his face.

She was desperate to make her way towards him, to touch him and hold him, yet her feet were completely rooted to the ground. She felt a sense of panic fill her as she watched Rebecca pull a tissue from her pocket and dab it against his cheek tenderly before turning her attention back to Sam. Charles made no acknowledgement of her action, simply looking straight ahead as the burial concluded. Molly resisted the urge to vomit there and then. The sense of panic was increasing the longer she watched, and she felt a tension fill her bones, dread enveloping her as she continued, unable to tear her eyes away. She was struggling to breathe evenly. He suddenly broke away from Rebecca and Sam, taking his mother for a moment in his arms as she broke down, watching the earth being shovelled into the ground.

Molly's stomach heaved, her short breaths forcing her chest to rise and fall rapidly as she choked back a sob. She couldn't bear to watch this anymore. She had allowed herself to get carried away with Chris and his plans, convincing herself that Charles needed her. Now she realised the reality. _She had needed him_, and had allowed herself to dream of an outcome that was never going to happen. He needed his family, _his son, his wife, his mum._

He didn't need one of his soldiers trailing out from Afghan to meet him at his father's funeral. What on earth had she been thinking, racing here as if she was somehow a vital part of the proceedings? Ok, they were together, but not once had they spoken about the future. Beyond the very obvious promise of the release of their built up sexual tension when they arrived home, he hadn't promised a thing. _She didn't belong here._

She was willing to bet that nobody here even knew that he was in another relationship, never mind that it was with somebody in his chain of command. _She was a complete idiot._ She had gotten carried away with the romance of it all, convincing herself that he needed her just because she needed him so very much.

She was now on the verge of a full scale panic attack, her instinctive responses to the situation beginning to kick in. She suddenly felt every single day of the ten year gap between them in age, and considered the fact that he had a family of his own to take care of him. Neither of those factors had ever mattered to her in the past, beyond her initial wobble when she thought he was still married. Now, they seemed insurmountable. _She wasn't enough for this. She wasn't enough for him._ She made the decision to flee the scene shortly thereafter. She turned on her heel and made her way as quickly as her legs would take her on these stupid shoes, towards the graveyard entrance.

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_Charles was done._ He had already had to contend with Rebecca trying to make herself useful in the graveyard, clinging to him as though she was bringing him any sort of comfort. He had barely even noticed she was in such close proximity to him until she had started dabbing his cheek with a tissue, treating him like he was Sam, rather than her ex-husband. He had no idea what she was playing at. He had managed to shake her off shortly afterwards, grabbing his mum instead. _This was hell._ _His dad would have hated it. _He felt like he couldn't breathe, desperate to find a reason to leave the gathering now that the service was over.

His attention was drawn to the figure in the background, sheltering under the large oak tree. She was tiny, with long dark hair, and was clad in black. His throat constricted as he felt every part of his brain scream at him to look closer. _It couldn't possibly be_. He felt himself transported back to the first day of the tour; back to the tarmac at Brize Norton, peering at the figure in the distance, knowing logically that it couldn't be her, but hoping and praying that he was right, that his brain wasn't playing tricks on him. That she had somehow come back to him again.

_He was right. It was her._

His brain only registered that fact as she turned square on her heel and bolted. He was overcome by so many emotions at once, that he was struggling to filter through them to determine which was overriding. As soon as he had known for sure that it was infact her, he was filled with hope. Just the sight of her, the knowledge that she was back in the country, safe and sound, had brought the most immense sense of immediate relief. _She had come back to him._ She had specifically made it back to support him through this horrendous day. But she was leaving again.

_Why was she leaving? _

He had no idea how he managed it, but he managed to break free from the crowd, passing his umbrella to Rebecca, who raised one eyebrow at him quizzically as he backed away from the group of mourners to make his way to her retreating figure. For once, the height difference that usually drove him mad worked in his favour, his huge strides matching her quick jog as she moved slower than usual, held up by the heels on her feet. He had nearly caught up with her within a couple of minutes, not even paying the slightest bit of attention to the sheets of rain pouring from the sky. He could see that she was panicking, sobs wracking her body as she moved. _Why wouldn't she stop moving? _

He hadn't called out to her yet, his mind still whirring as to how she had managed to get here, but more importantly, _why the hell she was running from him._ The only thing that had pulled him through the last few days was the prospect of seeing her, and now that he had been unexpectedly confronted by her presence, he wasn't prepared for all that he was currently feeling. He was becoming more furious the faster he moved, desperate to know why on earth she would run. He was soaked to the skin, but he didn't feel the cold bite of the wind as it howled through him.

He could feel his heart speed the closer he got, and he knew for a fact that it wasn't the physical exertion. He was within metres of her, unsure if she even knew that he was in pursuit. Suddenly, he was upon her, and she stopped in her tracks, not looking behind her for a second. He could feel her shaking. They were both soaked to the skin from the ever present torrent from the sky.

He uttered her name, low and confused, as he grabbed her wrist. She spun round, the combination of his emotional tone, and the feel of his skin on hers for the first time in a fortnight taking hold of her senses. He looked hurt and despondent, not to mention furious. "You were leaving?"

"I….._Oh shit_. Charles, I panicked." she murmured, taken aback by the intense expression on his face. He was suddenly right in front of her, and in the face of his deep gaze, her long list of reasons for running had dissolved. Her breathing was quick and uneven, her cheeks as damp as her sodden clothes and hair, although she was no longer sure if it was from the horrendous weather pelting them or from her tears.

She suddenly realised what a huge mistake she had made, as she took in the hurt in his posture. She knew him well enough to know that he was in equal shades furious yet trying to maintain control. His eyes were as dark as she had ever seen them, emotions bubbling under the surface, threatening to overwhelm him. They both shivered, and not from the cold seeping into their bodies through the damp surroundings.

"I saw you with Rebecca and Sam, and I panicked" she tried to explain, knowing how utterly stupid and pathetic her reasoning now sounded. He stood in front of her, incredulous at just how ridiculous she sounded. He forced himself to try and calm down, to try and understand, but he had reached his limit, the last few days taking their toll.

"You saw me with Rebecca and Sam and you panicked? Molly, what the fuck is wrong with you?" he shouted as he tried to get it through to her, hands running through his wet hair as he took a short pace away from her and then back towards her. The rain continued to fall hard and fast, and this time she felt legitimate panic that her hasty actions had ruined everything. _When would she learn not to act first and think later? _Her ability to run on instinct, which had always been of great use to her in the army, had let her down in the real world, and not for the first time. She inwardly cursed the fact that she had given into the panic, that she had believed the doubting voices in her head that she was constantly trying to overcome.

She was struggling to vocalise to him what on earth had happened to her, which was increasing the panic, and resulting in the vicious circle of her being unable to engage her brain to speak. The cumulation of all of the stress of the last fortnight had finally taken its toll and instead she screamed her worst fear at him.

"I'm not good enough. _Not for you._ It won't work!"

She clapped her hand over her mouth as soon as the words had been uttered, regret washing over her instantly. _Why was she doing this? She shouldn't have come here._

_Oh Fuck. He looked like he might explode._

He was beyond furious now, but not just with her. _With the world_.

The world that had taken his father from him far too soon. The world where such evil existed that they were forced to fight godforsaken wars in every corner in the earth. The world where an amazing person like Molly Dawes could ever be drawn into tormenting herself, and thinking that she wasn't good enough for him.

"When the fuck are you going to get it Molly?" he continued to shout at her, now beginning to lose control, desperate to try and make her understand. He stared her down with such intensity that she felt her legs about to betray her. "When are you finally going to understand that _I love you_?!"

She stared at him, dumbfounded by his words. _She hadn't been expecting that. _Her chin trembled as tears threatened to overwhelm her.

He couldn't speak or shout any more, and closed the gap between them in one pace. There was no more anger, just urgency and desperation as he grabbed the back of her head, pulling her face straight into his, his body shaking with pent up emotion and aggression. He mashed their bodies together, pulling her hips to meet his, their chests pressed together with not an inch of space between them as he kissed her unrelentingly, not willing to stop for a single second more.

They both poured their soul into the kiss. Neither were able to express their feelings with words at this moment in time, so they used their mouths for other purposes instead. His tongue plunged into her mouth, claiming her as his, again and again, as his arms held her as close as possible. He was unwilling to let her go, not again. Neither felt the cold surrounding them as they gave in to the all-consuming nature of the kiss.

_He wouldn't let her run again. _

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**AN3 - I wavered about halfway through this chapter, for various reasons, but mostly because I was a bit concerned about the reaction to Molly's actions. I think it's important to remember that all of the circumstances and stresses and strains of the past few months have finally hit home with her, and led to one (very badly timed) moment of doubt. She is still young, and I think it's fairly realistic for the family picture to overwhelm her in this way.**

**AN4 - I have reason to believe that the next chapter may just contain what some of you have been waiting out for...;-)**


	14. Chapter 14

**AN - thank you so very much for all of the responses to the last chapter, I really do appreciate them all. Chapter 14 is below, but before you begin reading - a word of warning. You may have noticed that this story has now been re-rated from a "T" to an "M" rating. If you don't want to read the smutty stuff, then please don't continue beyond the first half of this chapter. For those of you who do want to read, then I hope you like it, and please do let me know what you think. It has taken what feels like an absolute age to write this chapter, mainly because I really wanted to get this stage in their relationship right. I'm still not 100% on it, but I hope you get some enjoyment from reading it. It's a particularly long chapter, so sorry if it goes on a bit, but I didn't want to split in half and risk being lynched for cutting off the smut halfway through!**

**Anyway, I have rambled enough, so here goes...**

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They continued to kiss, losing themselves in each other until breathing became an effort, forcing them to come up for air. He finally pulled away from her lips as he panted. He struggled for breath, filling his lungs with oxygen, feeling conflicted by the need for air against the sheer effort it had taken to prise himself from her.

He took a moment to look down at her as they pulled apart, lips swollen, her eyes still tightly closed, recovering from the sheer passion that had flowed into the moment. He rested his forehead on hers, closing his own eyes and placed his thumb on her lower lip, rosy and plump from the bruising kisses they had just shared.

Molly was beginning to register the enormity of what had happened. She could feel the curious gaze of a number of the mourners, some of whom remained outside the church. The majority of them had separated from the crowd and begun to go about their business, but she could feel more than one pair of eyes still boring into her.

She looked up at him as he caressed her lip back and forth with his thumb. "People are watching," she murmured, as he continued.

"I don't care" was the response; short and to the point. He paused, before taking a deep breath, opening his eyes and attempting to collect himself. His gaze remained dark and stormy, and he refused to look her directly in the eye. She knew he was still hurting, but had no idea what to do to remedy the situation. Once again, she was completely out of her depth. This was a problem of her own making, but she had no clue how to resolve it.

"Let's go" he asserted, his statement short and pointed. She began to vocalise an assertion that they shouldn't, that _surely he had things he needed to do, people he needed to speak to_. He silenced her with a simple look. It was his finest Captain James authoritative look, and it shut her up immediately. He grabbed her hand and beckoned his head towards the car park, as she walked alongside him.

He led Molly to the car silently, hand placed possessively over hers as they walked together, their fingers interlaced. They remained soaked, the waves of rain still pounding down on them. As they neared the car, he caught sight of Rebecca standing close to it, under an umbrella, watching them quietly. A look of curiosity filled her face as she very obviously surveyed Molly. Her and Charles were both soaked to the skin, and it was obvious to anyone who looked at them that they had both been crying. Rebecca looked as though she was fighting the urge to comment.

_Oh Jesus. Had he not suffered enough this afternoon?_ A run in with his ex-wife was the last thing he needed to top this horrific day off.

"Your mother asked me to tell you that she's gone to your Aunt Rosemary's with her." Rebecca drew closer to them, obviously weighing the situation up carefully, deciding whether or not to push it. He felt Molly tense up beside him as she continued "I'm taking Sam home now. He's in the car."

"Thanks. We're going home." He spoke amicably, determined not to give his ex-wife a reaction. Without thinking, he held their conjoined hands up as he said it, indicating that Molly was included in that 'we' and 'home' and Molly vaguely registered the warm feeling in her chest as he did it.

"Aren't you going to introduce us?" Rebecca's eyes narrowed as she watched the interaction with interest. "Only, you hadn't mentioned that you would be bringing anybody today?"

_Great. She was going to push it._ He sighed as he led Molly past Rebecca, to the passenger door of his car, opening it to deliver her to the dry comfort of the vehicle. He opened the door, guiding her in as though he was terrified that she would bolt at any given opportunity. He hadn't yet closed the door as he turned to respond to his ex-wife, one arm on the open door, and the other on the roof of the car as Molly settled herself in the warm seat, pulling the seatbelt across her body. The shelter from the rain made her register how soaked she was, wet clothes squelching on the leather seat as she shifted uncomfortably.

Charles weighed up the situation before responding low and carefully.

"This isn't the time or the place for this conversation Rebecca. I'll phone you tomorrow to see how Sam is." He looked over to the back seat of Rebecca's car, where Sam sat in his booster chair, sticking his tongue out in jest at Charles and making faces in an attempt to make him laugh. He grinned half heartedly at his son, ignoring the hostile sentiment currently settling in the air.

His lack of engagement pissed Rebecca off. She couldn't bite her tongue. "Oh, but it is the time and place to make a show of your whole family?" He looked at her quizzically before she continued. "Practically having sex with some young girl in the graveyard at your father's bloody funeral, Charles? _How very classy_!" she hissed, her hostility increasing ten-fold the more she realised that her words were having very little effect on him. He held the bridge of his nose with his forefingers, looking down, as his other hand sat on his hip. He willed himself not to respond, feeling irritation more than anger.

The more time he spent in Rebecca's company, the more he remembered why he had ended the marriage in the first place. She was capable of surprising levels of venom for somebody who looked so innocent at first glance. Chris had nicknamed her the Viper, and for good reason. "Who the hell is she anyway?" she continued to pry for information relentlessly, as she looked past him into the car where Molly currently resided, also biting her tongue.

His overriding reaction was to protect Molly, although he knew that she could, and would, protect herself. She was a trained killer after all. Nevertheless, he cut Rebecca off before she had a chance to begin. "Conversation over Rebecca. I'll speak to you tomorrow", he dismissed her as he slammed the passenger door shut and made his own way round to the drivers' seat, his ex-wife's eyes surveying him with shock as he started the engine and drove away without another glance in her direction.

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Silence radiated within the car as he pulled out of the car park and headed the two of them towards their destination. Molly risked a glance sideways as he drove. Charles' jaw was clenched tightly, eyes focused on the road ahead. One hand gripped the top of the steering wheel tightly, as the other rested on the gearstick.

Feeling brave, she inched a cautious hand toward him, resting on his thigh. His suit trousers were beginning to dry with the warm air-conditioning, which he had set to full blast as soon as he began driving. She could feel the tight muscles in his thighs engaging as he put his foot down on the pedals to drive. His hair was beginning to dry too, the waves that she loved to run her hands through reforming after being soaked through. At her first touch, he drew a deep, ragged breath into his chest. She felt his entire body tense at her touch, but he made no other outward sign that she was having an effect on him.

_What the hell do I do now?_

She had no idea what to say to him. He had just buried his father and then taken the breath from her with his outright declaration that he loved her. She decided to try and break the awkward silence with something, _anything_, that would fill the void.

"I'm sorry I turned up like that, unannounced."

He looked at her from the corner of his eye, not sure how to respond. _He had laid it all out on the line now, there wasn't much point in retreating._

"You shouldn't be sorry. I wanted you there."

A faint smile lit her face. Encouraged by his response, she continued. "How are you?"

"Better for seeing you. Could've done without my Great Aunt Mildred seeing me with my tongue down your throat though." He let out a small, light chuckle at the memory, his cheeks burning very slightly at the thought.

"Shit. Sorry." She buried her head in her hands as she again berated herself for running away without thinking it through. "When am I gonna learn about first impressions?" she muttered through her fingers.

"If it's any consolation, my father would have bloody loved it. He was always complaining about how boring funerals are. I'm pretty sure he's up there somewhere pissing himself laughing at the whole thing."

She saw his face light up at the mention of his father. "He sounds like fun."

"He is. Was" he corrected himself, as he looked out of the window, indicating to move into another lane. "He would have liked you."

"I would've liked him too. If he was anything like his son anyway."

She was feeling more relaxed now that she had engaged him in conversation, and risked moving her hand further up his thigh. He grabbed the wandering offender, and pulled it up towards his mouth, kissing her knuckles lightly.

When he brought their hands back down to rest, this time it was time for his hand to wander. He gripped her thigh lightly, thumb moving back and forth over the soaked material of her woollen coat. It was excruciating for her, feeling his hand through the thick layers that clothed her. She wanted more, but couldn't have it right now.

He pulled into a parking place on the street, and stopped the car. Their eyes met and held together. His gaze held a mix of lust, torment, and something else, which she couldn't quite place. His voice emerged, low and husky as they continued to watch each other, neither able to move.

"Molly.." it was almost reverential, the way he simply uttered her name as he watched her. She didn't feel worthy of the way he looked at her, the voices of doubt continuing to creep into her consciousness from where they had almost reigned victorious earlier that day. She made a conscious decision, and swept them away, out of her head. He had put his faith in her. He didn't have any doubts. _He loved her._ She would prove to herself that she was worthy of that.

She smiled at him, a full beam that almost took the breath from him. It lit her face up, and he could feel the warmth affecting him as he took in her demeanour.

"Aren't you gonna invite me inside then? I _have_ come all the way from Afghan." her eyes sparkled with mischief, and he felt relief fill him at the partial restoration of the status quo between them. She was the only person who could ever make him feel this way.

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She sat at the kitchen table in his mother and father's house as he leaned against the island in the middle of the room, each clutching a hot steaming mug as they tried to restore some warmth to their bones. He was well aware that his declaration in the church grounds hadn't been raised, hadn't been mentioned at all, since he had screamed the words at her. He took heart from the fact that she at least hadn't shown an inclination to bolt again. She seemed nervous, a feeling which had radiated from her as he showed her into the house.

_He shouldn't have brought her here_. He should have known that it would be overwhelming. But his flat was too far away, and he had stayed with his mother since he had arrived home from Afghan. He let out a silent thanks to his mum, who had obviously decided to go to her sister's house to give them some space. She knew all about Molly; they had always had a close mother and son relationship, and she had known almost from the outset about the mystery girl in the nightclub. When Charles had arrived home, she needed a distraction from her grief, and had interrogated him so extensively about his time on tour that he capitulated and told her the entire story as they stayed up one night. They had spoken into the small hours, Charles confessing that he didn't want to scare Molly away with any declarations about love, or the future. _He had managed to well and truly balls that one up now._

Molly watched him curiously as he remained deep in thought. He removed his jacket, and loosened his black tie as he stood, staring into the distance thoughtfully. She placed her mug down on the table as she rose from her chair, approaching the island where he leaned against the worktop. It was warm and welcoming; the type of old, country style kitchen that she had seen on the telly before, with kids running around it. It was a proper, family kitchen. It couldn't have been further from the grubby box room she was used to at home, with old marmite stains on the windowsill. She again tried not to think about the vast differences between them, focusing on the positives instead.

She approached him carefully, taking the mug from his hand and placing it behind them on the worktop. His hands needed something else warm to hold, and he pulled her towards him.

"Charles" she broke the silence with a low murmur, maintaining eye contact with him. She moved in closer, standing in his shadow. "Thanks for the cuppa, but I'm not thirsty."

He grinned at her forwardness. "Molly. How else am I going to heat you up?" he mimicked her low murmur, his voice filled with mock innocence as he bit on his lower lip with anticipation. They didn't get a chance to explore that particular area of banter further, as he lost patience and fused his lips to hers in a kiss that almost took the legs from her. She felt herself wobble beneath him, her world spinning, before he lifted her up on the worktop as he kissed her, to allow for easier access. He pulled away, breathless and panting.

"Would you prefer this?"

He had broken away from her far too soon for her liking, and she grabbed him back to her mouth, forcing their tongues back together as a hot flush spread across her cheeks, her hands, her entire body. "Yes," she muttered into his mouth, not even bothering to draw her lips from his.

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She was losing herself in the kiss, and before she registered what was happening, she became conscious of cool air attacking her body. He was fiddling with the belt on her coat, untying it as he released each of the large buttons on the front with shaking hands. He pulled the soaked material, and it fell behind her on the worktop, leaving her still wet clothes behind. The warm flush from her body met the wet material on her skin, leaving her cold and shivering beneath it. She was comforted by the warm heat from his arms, as he enveloped her.

She straddled him now, legs rising from where they had swung from the worktop to wrap themselves around his waist. Neither could believe that they were actually doing this; for the first time ever, there was no fear, no danger of being interrupted. A catalogue of possibilities whirred round Charles' head as he considered this. He was minutes away from having Molly Dawes naked in his arms, after almost a year of waiting out. Every single muscle in his body tensed, nerve endings shot to pieces with anticipation of what was to come.

He felt her continue to shiver, her wet clothes causing her discomfort. It would only be kind to make her more comfortable by removing them, he thought to himself, grinning into her mouth at the prospect as he continued to bruise her with his kisses.

"What's so funny?" she asked breathlessly, tearing her mouth away as he lifted her top from her body, the material passing between their heads, forcing them apart. They couldn't part their mouths for any longer, and their tongues met once again. He groaned into her mouth forcefully, as his eyes cast downwards, taking in the sight of her in just a bra and black skirt, straddling him in his parents' kitchen. He vaguely registered somewhere in his brain that he would need to slow this down if he wanted to avoid embarrassing himself.

He did register that fact, but didn't yet act on it. He pulled himself away from the kiss, his eyes moving downwards to the black lace balcony bra that she wore. He finally answered her question.

"Nothing" he grinned mischievously before trailing a row of kisses down her collarbone, moving towards his goal as his mouth trailed further down. Her rosy nipples almost peeked out from the material, taunting and teasing him as he covered the lace with his mouth. She yelped in surprise as he enveloped her partially covered nipple in his mouth, sucking forcefully. She arched her back with pure surprise and pleasure at the feeling. She had imagined this so many times, played it out so much in her head, but the reality of all that she was feeling in this moment was so much more satisfying, that any fantasy paled in comparison.

She pulled greedily at his loosened tie, undoing it with clumsy fingers and casting it aside before she moved to the buttons on his shirt. He continued to tease her with his mouth until she practically couldn't see straight any longer, trying to force her shaking fingers to deal with the tiny buttons on his crisp white shirt.

_For fuck's sake!_ She couldn't get them undone quickly enough. Her hands needed to touch his naked chest. It felt like the world might end if she couldn't get him naked. _Now_! He laughed at her temper tantrum with the buttons, as he raised his arms in the air and shrugged the offending item over his head and dropped it from his body, buttons forgotten about.

She took in his gloriously naked chest, and raked over it with her fingers, her breath catching at the very back of her throat, desire continuing to flush through her body in waves. Being in such close proximity to him like this was everything she had dreamed and fantasised of, and more into the bargain.

He unzipped her tight black skirt, and lifted her very slightly from the worktop so that he could pull it from her body, tossing it with the other bundle of discarded clothes on the floor beneath them. She was glorious, in only her bra and knickers, watching him with hooded, almost glazed eyes. He knew he wouldn't have the ability to resist her for another minute longer. As much as he wanted desperately to take her right now, somewhere in his conscience screamed at him that they had waited out this long, that he could at least take her to a bed before having his way with her.

The notion had taken hold of him, and he lifted her quickly from the worktop, her legs continuing to straddle him as he directed them towards his bedroom. She hadn't registered at first that they were moving as he continued to kiss her, moving them both towards the hall and up the stairs. At some stage, the shoes she was wearing dropped from her feet. She was shielded from the chilly air in the draughty old hall by only her underwear and the heat from his body.

As they moved, she could feel his rock-hard erection dig into her thigh, and she held back a lust-filled sigh at the very thought of it. She had waited so long for this, dreamt about it on so many occasions that she could barely believe she had him here. She ground and rolled her hips forcefully against his hardness as he walked, and he had to stop momentarily to collect himself as he felt her dampness against his body. She heard him draw in a deep breath before he collected himself and continued, growling in her ear. "If you don't stop that right now, I'm going to have to take you here on the stairs." She moaned at the very thought of him doing just that, and continued to rotate and grind her hips as he desperately sought the door of his bedroom.

"Jesus fucking Christ Molly, you're going to kill me" he muttered, groaning with relief as he finally found the correct door, backing them into the room, desperate to lay her down on the bed. His tone sounded like pure sex, and she squirmed restlessly against his body, desperate for him to touch her.

He deposited her on the very edge of the bed, watching her with hungry, darkened eyes, as he attempted to pull the trousers from his body, fumbling with the buttons and zipper. She was unreal, splayed out over the bed watching him, her cheeks flushed, breathless, wet and panting. All of the things he had been fantasising about since the very first moment he laid eyes on her. He wanted her to appreciate just how glorious she was, he needed her to understand how much he wanted her.

He pulled her from the bed again, much to her surprise. She gasped as he sat her at the opposite edge of the bed, in front of the long mirror that hung on the wall beside his bed. He sat behind her, straddling her from behind, legs wrapped around her body, whispering in her ear as she took in the sight of the two of them in the mirror. He slipped the straps of her bra down her shoulders, kissing the soft skin tenderly, and unclasping the back of her bra, releasing her heavy, tender breasts to the chilly air. She gasped at the sight as he let out a moan, his hands moving in front of her to caress her hard nipples. They both looked in the mirror as he whispered in her ear.

"So beautiful." He whispered, low and clear as he moved his mouth to her ear, nibbling and licking while his hands continued to caress her breasts, teasing her nipples delicately. Watching him sit behind her, doing this in the mirror, was the single most sensual experience she had ever enjoyed in her life, and she felt the unbearable tension build up in her body as he continued.

She whimpered in anticipation as his hands moved downwards, reaching the hem of her black lace underwear. She couldn't tear her eyes from the sight of him in the mirror, worshipping her body in the reflection. He wasn't moving any further, and she wanted to scream.

"Charles, please" she moaned as he teased her, fingers trailing along the hem of the lacy material. The pit of her stomach was coiled with tension, her wet lips soaking with complete and utter need.

"Please what?" he teased her again as he looked up to enjoy the view himself. His hardness dug into her back. He doubted he had ever been this hard in his life before.

"Touch me" she whimpered desperately. _That wasn't helping him to keep control of himself._

"On one condition" he whispered into her ear.

_She was beyond desperate for him. _"Oh jesus. Anything."

"Look at how beautiful you are".

_What? What the fuck was he talking about?_

He lifted her chin up and she looked again at their reflection in the mirror, his fingers burrowed under the material that currently provided the only barrier between them. Her legs were spread as far apart as possible as she sat in his lap, his other large hand on her breast. _He was right. It was a beautiful sight. _She nodded imperceptibly, granting him his wish.

"I love you" he finally said the words again into her ear, only for her. It was like a wish had been granted to her soul. She felt a warm sensation pool in her stomach, combining with her hunger for him. Her heart pounded, the anticipation nearly finishing her off, before she finally found the courage to respond. She looked up to the mirror, meeting his eyes in the reflection.

"I love you too."

His mouth spread in a wide, satisfied smile, and he finally had mercy on her, running his fingers along the wet lips of her sex as she nearly jumped off the bed in shock. He didn't give her a chance to collect herself, curling the same fingers inside of her, his thumb rubbing her clitoris as she continued to watch the sight, completely enthralled. She knew she wouldn't last long before she exploded, all of her senses combining to create the most wonderful result. She could hear his low whispers in her ear, repeating his declaration of love, over and over, while her eyes feasted on the sight before her. Finally, the sense of touch took over all of those elements, as he found exactly the right spot with his skilled fingers.

She recognised a sound that could only be coming from her mouth as it rung around them. It was a mewling cry, filled with the release of months of tension. She watched as her face scrunched up with the waves of pleasure, and he raised his eyes again from the task in hand and met her gaze as she screamed his name, loud and clear. Convulsions of pleasure took over her body, and every inch of her shook with pleasure as he continued to give her pleasure unrelentingly. Her legs jerked and trembled violently.

She now remembered her blushes as he had whispered to her back at Bastion about what he wanted to do to her in private. It was exactly this, and the fantasy had kept her going for months. _The reality was so, so much more enjoyable._

::::

They lay on the bed together as she collected herself, still twitching with complete and utter pleasure. He watched her, captivated, as she lay, eyes closed, chest still heaving from the exertion. He had been waiting to do that for months, ever since the thought first occurred to him and he voiced it to her in secret, all those months ago in Bastion. He kissed his way right up her torso, before she sprang back into life, eyes wide open once again.

He kissed her lips, and she instantly responded, writhing against his naked body. She brought her legs up, locking them against his body, allowing him to ease himself into her tight walls. She moaned softly as he did so, feeling her walls being filled painfully slowly. Her mouth fell open in a wide 'O' shape, with no accompanying noise as he filled her to the absolute hilt, burying himself deep inside of her.

Suddenly, she yelped, and dug her fingernails deep into his shoulders as he held her hips in place and began to thrust into her, slowly at first, but with increasing urgency as he felt his own senses take over. He had to fight the unbearable urge to shout out himself; her walls were so tight around him, and they moved together with such perfect synchronicity that he was struggling to keep any focus at all. All of his remaining focus and willpower was going into this moment. They fell into a natural, simple rhythm, and he tried to concentrate on increasing the frequency and volume of the moans coming from her mouth. He didn't have to try much harder as she moaned incoherently beneath him. He pounded harder and faster, as she pulled at the muscles in his back with her fingers, begging him to give her more.

She clung to him for dear life, adjusting her legs very slightly so that they sat wider, draped higher round his waist. One more push, and she was hurtling from the very edge of oblivion, and pulling him with her.

A loud cry ripped from her throat as he felt her walls contract and pulse around him. He was gone moments later, and felt the blood pound around his ears as he released himself into her, his arms nearly giving out. He let out a moan that sounded almost inhuman to his ears. It was a wailing sound, distorted, strange, like someone dying of agony, and yet it felt so amazingly good. Several seconds passed. He spilled the last of himself into her and remained on top of her, panting, unable to speak, unable to do much more than make sure that he continued to breathe.

They stayed like that for a minute or so, ripples of pleasure still releasing, until he realised that he was probably crushing her.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked with concern as he shifted from on top of her, pulling her to rest on top of him instead. She shook her head vociferously, tears cascading down her cheeks as she did so.

"Molly. What's wrong?" he asked, panic starting to register in his body. _Had he been too rough, had he hurt her?_

"Nothing at all. That was perfect. You're perfect" she sniffed as she burrowed into his chest.

"_We're perfect_. Together, we're perfect" he clarified, as he pulled a blanket from the bed to cover their sated bodies. There were no more words, as both fell into a peaceful slumber.

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**AN2: Ok. I don't know about you guys, but I'm completely and utterly exhausted after that one - I hope it was worth the wait! :-) One more chapter left, plus the epilogue, and then we will be done...**


	15. Chapter 15

**AN - Once again, you've all taken me aback with your lovely comments on this story - thank you! The last chapter of the story is below, although I will also post a short epilogue to tie things up, which should be ready in the next day or two. I can't tell you how much I've enjoyed sharing this story with all of you. It's been exhausting, but utterly enjoyable. Thank you very much to everyone who has read and/or given feedback, it really means a lot. Reading your comments and encouragement has given me the motivation to keep writing until this was complete, so thank you all very much! Special thanks to all of the lovely mumsnetters, who have delivered encouragement and madness in equal measures :-)**

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As the first hint of daylight began to inch its way into the bedroom, Molly stirred from her deep sleep. She felt the ice cold morning air attacking her exposed arm, which crept out from under the warm duvet. She retreated the limb back under the safe warmth of the cover, joining the rest of her as she continued to emerge into a conscious state.

For a fleeting moment, she wondered where on earth she was, the warm and cosy comfort of the bed a million miles away from the wake up she had experienced for the last 5 months on tour. But then it all came hurtling back to her; her long journey home from Afghanistan, followed by the intensity of yesterday. Her cheeks flushed with warmth as she remembered just how the end of yesterday afternoon had progressed.

_It was indescribable._ It was something she had anticipated since the moment she first saw him, but the memory itself was something she would treasure forever. It was like nothing she had ever experienced before. She had always laughed before at the term 'making love'. It was something which didn't exist in real life, a fantasy that was reserved for the end of Hollywood movies where the guy gets the girl. Real life sex was a different story. It had always suited her; it was fun, it was often enjoyable, depending on who she had it with. She had never really seen the appeal of 'making love'. Certainly not with the guys she had ever been with before.

_Now she understood. _He had made her feel so loved, so cherished, had given her such pleasure, that she couldn't understand the concept of not wanting to feel that way. His warm, still naked body was spooned behind her, holding her closely in his arms. One arm rested, protective and heavy over her waist, the other on the pillow, under her head. She had slept in his arms all night, although her face twitched with a smile as she remembered waking up during the night and engaging him in 'round 2', as he had laughingly called it. They had then laid in bed for hours afterwards in the dark, talking, catching up, joking.

Now that morning had arrived, she turned around to study him properly as he slept, blissfully unaware that she was committing his face to memory. He looked so much younger when he slept, no expressions of worry or concern etched on his face. She used her fingertips to very softly brush the waves that had fallen forward onto his forehead, and he sighed in his sleep, reaching for her involuntarily. She could have stayed this way forever. Unfortunately though, her body was disagreeing with the sentiment, her stomach grumbling loudly as she lay beside him.

She didn't want to wake him while he looked so peaceful. As they lay in each other's arms the night before, he had confessed that he had barely been sleeping since arriving home. It wasn't surprising given the emotional stress he was under, and she wanted him to make the most of the peaceful slumber he was currently engaged in.

She managed to extract herself from his arms and the bed, slowly and carefully so as not to disturb him, gasping as the cold air attacked her naked body. She moved to his drawers, and found a long sleeved jumper which drowned her, but was at least warm, and covered up the essentials. Plus, it smelled like him, which was a huge benefit. She would nip downstairs, make a cuppa, raid the cupboard for some biscuits to go with it, and rejoin him in bed before he even knew she was gone. She was sure she could find her way back to the kitchen from her memories of yesterday. Come to think of it, she should probably retrieve her clothes, which would be scattered round the room after their antics. She blushed again at the memory, images of her perched on the kitchen worktop in only her underwear, straddling him, searing her brain. She felt a now familiar stirring of need in her lower stomach, venturing between her thighs. If she concentrated much more on that, she might never leave the room.

_Focus, Molly. Cuppa, then back to bed._

::::

She crept out into the hall and wandered down the squeaky floorboards on bare-footed tiptoes, anxious not to wake Charles. She remembered that the kitchen was to the right of the staircase, and turned towards the vast room. She should have registered that things weren't quite as they had been left, but her mind was focused on her destination, and eventual return to bed.

As she wandered into the kitchen, trying to recall where Charles had retrieved the teabags to make her tea yesterday, her attention was drawn to the lone figure sitting at the table, an untouched mug in front of her. She could smell the coffee permeating from the mug; the aroma reminding her of her early morning meetings with Charles in the med tent on tour. On the table, beside the mug, and in front of the figure, sat two piles of neatly laundered and folded clothes; one belonging to her, the other to Charles. She recognised the woman from the graveyard.

_Oh shit. His mum._

The woman watched with an unreadable look in her eyes, as Molly approached, stumbling for words to cater for this very awkward scenario. She looked younger than Molly had expected, maybe in her mid to late 50's at the most. She had the same coarse, wavy, dark hair as her son, although it was much more managed, and sat in a classic bob, reaching her chin. Her eyes were different to his; a deep blue colour, sadness resonating within them. She was classically beautiful, and Molly could at once see where Charles had inherited his good looks from.

"Mrs James?" she ventured as she approached the table with caution.

"Please dear, it always reminds me of my mother-in-law to hear that. Call me Annabel."

Molly, for once, was lost for words, inwardly cringing at the unfolding scene. _Why hadn't she just stayed where she was? _She could have been tucked up in bed with Charles right now, instead of enacting this nightmare.

Annabel sensed the hesitation in the younger woman, and took the lead, inviting her to join her. "Can I get you a cup of tea or coffee, Molly?"

"Tea would be lovely thanks. Wait-" she paused, looking at her warily "-how do you know my name?" Annabel smiled kindly, appreciating at once what Charles had shared with her about her lack of confidence. "I know all about you Molly." When she saw the look of surprise register on Molly's face, she continued "My son doesn't have a mute button where you're concerned" she smiled lightly.

_Well this was a surprise._ _He had told his mum about them._ She at once reminded herself that his actions should no longer come as a surprise to her; he was forever leaving her on the back foot with his capacity to shock her.

She sat down as Annabel placed a mug of milky tea in front of her, commenting as she heard a deep rumble escape from Molly's stomach. "I'll add something to eat to that, shall I?"

"Oh no, please don't go to any trouble. I'll sort myself. I only came down to get a cuppa and then go back up.." she trailed off as she realised that the rest of that sentence could get her in all sorts of trouble.

Luckily for her, Annabel smiled again as she sat down opposite Molly, although the smile didn't quite reach her eyes.. "I put your clothes through the washing machine and dried them. I hope you don't mind, only I know you got soaked through with all the rain yesterday." It could have been interpreted as a leading statement, but Molly could only see kindness glimmering in her eyes, and she flushed with embarrassment. Annabel had obviously come home to be greeted with the sight of her son and his girlfriend's' clothes scattered through the room, and had gone to the trouble of washing and folding them neatly. "You really shouldn't have. I don't want to put you to any trouble."

"Nonsense. Keeps me busy. I've been trying to keep busy ever since.." Annabel trailed off, obviously not wanting to finish the sentence, as tears began to form in her eyes.

_Oh shit. She didn't think she could deal with the prospect of making Charles' mum cry. _She was deeply uncomfortable with the whole situation. _"_I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. I can go and get Charles if you want?"

She sniffed, and pulled a cloth handkerchief from beneath the sleeve of her soft black jumper. "No Molly. Let him sleep. Please. He hasn't been sleeping well since he arrived home."

Molly breathed with relief that she seemed to be composing herself. "He mentioned."

Annabel dabbed the tears from her eyes and held Molly's gaze. "He's been waiting for you."

Molly registered complete and utter surprise at that statement, and before she could hold the negative words back, they had escaped her mouth. "I doubt that."

"He has, Molly." she continued to hold eye contact with her, composing herself as she spoke. "I'm glad I got the chance to speak to you alone anyway. There's something I'd like to say."

Molly looked at her hesitantly. _Uh-oh._

"Since Charles came home from Afghanistan, he's shown me glimpses of the old Charles. It's the only thing that's kept me going over the last few weeks if I'm honest."

"The old Charles?" she enquired.

"Yes Molly. The old Charles. The one who I remember as a bright eyed, loving, affectionate man. He's not been here for a while. The Charles who I've known for the last few years was a shell of the man he used to be. I don't know if it was the divorce, or the strain of four tours, or a combination of the two. I've been concerned about him for quite some time. Not any more though. There's a change in him. You've given him hope again." Annabel's eyes were filling with tears yet again as she spoke, and she brushed them away as they began to emerge from the corners of her sad eyes.

"I'm sure it's nothing to do with me." Molly murmured and looked away, embarrassed by the tone of the conversation.

Annabel smiled knowingly despite the sadness in her eyes. "Oh but it is. Trust me. A mother knows these things. I'm just sad that Richard never had an opportunity to appreciate the change." The tears were flowing once again, and this time Molly grabbed the older woman's hand from across the table, unable to hold back her empathy for the heartbroken woman who sat opposite her.

"Thank you for bringing my son back to me. I don't think I could have coped with losing him as well as his father."

Molly nodded very slightly, and took a sip of her tea with her free hand. She was beginning to appreciate that the words Charles had been whispering to her as they lay together last night, about love and forever, were indeed the way he felt. Her chest tightened with love at the thought of a future with him.

Annabel felt the weight of her own personal grief at that moment. She suddenly recalled something, and experienced the inevitably bizarre feeling when a moment of comedy intersperses with one of immense grief. Despite herself, she giggled lightly through her tears, and Molly looked at her quizzically.

She decided to let her in on the joke. "Just one thing, Molly?"

Molly nodded hesitantly, no idea what was coming next.

"Do I need to bleach my kitchen worktops?"

Molly looked at her, mortified, cheeks pinking up, shaking her head and horrified with embarrassment, before noticing the corners of Annabel's mouth twitch with laughter. Both women couldn't help themselves, dissolving into teary giggles at the absurdity of the moment.

They fell into a companionable silence as they sat, hands still conjoined.

:::::

It was almost half an hour later by the time Molly appeared back upstairs, and she crept back into the bedroom, unsure of whether he would still be asleep. He was in the exact position she had left him in, sprawled out over the bed, his long, lean limbs on display from where they emerged from under the duvet cover. She took a moment to admire him in all his glory. _God, he was gorgeous. _She wondered, not for the first time, how she had ever managed to get so lucky.

She couldn't resist any longer, and allowed herself to join him underneath the duvet again. She burrowed into his muscular body, relishing the feel of his warm skin against her freezing cold legs and feet.

His pretence at sleep was ruined as his eyes shot open. "Fucking hell" he yelped, jumping in shock, hands on her hips to hold her still as she snuggled further into him. "Your feet are freezing"

She laughed at his shock, cuddling up to him despite his refusal to let her cold body near him, desperate to feel more of his warmth. "I thought you were asleep."

"Well, I didn't want to disturb you while you were admiring me" he grinned, his eyes returning to their previously closed state as he said it. He stopped resisting her, and pulled her close to his body, sweeping her up in his arms.

"Who says I was admiring you?" her most innocent voice enquired.

He opened his eyes to look at her, gorgeous orbs of chocolate brown taking her breath away "Don't deny it Dawes, I know you can't keep your eyes off me. Or your hands." His eyes swept downwards as he took in her appearance. "Nice jumper, by the way. You should wear my clothes more often.

Actually-", he continued, lips moving to her neck as he dispensed warm, moist kisses all the way down it, venturing towards her collarbone, "-you should be naked. I think I need to warm you up again". His husky, morning timbre was doing unbelievable things to her insides, not to mention his hands, as they wound their way down and underneath the large jumper, locating her breasts with his warm hands, drawing her nipples up to a stiff peak.

"Not so fast lover boy. Your mum's downstairs." She thought that would stop him in his tracks, but he continued regardless, drawing a low, breathless, urgent moan from her as she enjoyed the sensation of his hands rubbing and covering her bare skin, his mouth still paying great attention to her neck and shoulders.

"And?" he enquired, not distracted from the task in hand.

"And? She walked in on all our clothes all over the shop from yesterday. Washed them and everything. I'm embarrassed enough, don't need to traumatise her any more." The words had made sense when she formulated them in her brain, but the way he was making her feel was so very, very tempting. She was failing to even convince herself now.

He stopped in his tracks, looking up at her seriously, and for a minute she thought he had listened to her. "Well, I don't know about you, but I can be quiet." he murmured seductively, biting his lip with anticipation before resuming his attention to her body.

She groaned, knowing that she couldn't hold out much longer. "Charles. I'm serious."

"So am I!" his protests were muffled as he nuzzled against the column of her neck.

Her recollection of the conversation with his mum was returning her brain to a more serious function again, and she tested the water with him. "She told me I'd brought you back to her. That you had hope again."

He stopped again and lifted his head, his attention captured, before sighing with a slight hint of frustration. "She was right. Molly, didn't you listen the hundreds of times I told you yesterday. _I love you_." His serious face had returned, and she giggled lightly at his return to captain stern-face.

Reassured by his words, her playfulness was restored. "Hmm, I don't know. I might need to hear that a few more times before I believe it." She grinned as he smiled, his whole face lighting up.

"Oh, trust me Molly Dawes, I'm going to spend the rest of our lives showing you just how much I mean it." He looked her straight in the eye as he said it, meaning every single word. She returned his beaming smile and adopted a joking tone. "Careful. That sounded an awful lot like a promise."

"You'd better believe it. Now come here. I'm definitely warming you up this time, there's no escape!" she giggled uncontrollably as he moved suddenly, trapping her under him and delivering sweet kisses all over. She felt time stand still as it all made perfect sense.

She had found him.

She would never forget this moment.

_She would never forget him._

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	16. Chapter 16

**AN. Well, we have finally reached the end of the line with this story. It has been an absolute pleasure, and I hope you all enjoy the epilogue. Thank you all for being such lovely readers, and so very supportive with this story :-)**

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_**How could I forget - Epilogue**_

"Ladies and gentlemen" he tapped a champagne flute with his spoon as the guests around the room sat to attention. He cleared his throat and continued confidently. "For those of you who don't already know me, my name is Chris Adams, and I'm the best man at this beautiful wedding." Scattered applause rang out as he began his introductions.

"It's an absolute pleasure to see you all here today, and may I thank you all on behalf of the bride and groom for joining us on this wonderful day. Frankly, I'm amazed that Charles let me anywhere near this job after the last time!"

"Anyway-" he cleared his throat, as Charles shook his head in mock horror at the mention of his first wedding. "-You'll be glad to hear that my best man's speech today will be much like a mini-skirt. Long enough to cover the essentials, but definitely short enough to hold your attention!" The guests chuckled as he paused. "Rest assured that, unlike most traditional best man speeches, which are full of sexual innuendo, I've promised both Charles and Molly that if there is anything even slightly risqué, I'll whip it out immediately." The chuckles increased as he continued to joke.

"No, seriously, I'm going to try my very hardest to keep this toast exactly like the new Mrs James." He looked at Molly. "Short and not very funny!" He raised a glass, grinning at the bride as the audience voiced a few heckles, and she stuck her tongue out at him jokingly. She was soon distracted by a brief, tender kiss on the lips from her new husband, and Chris took the opportunity to continue.

"So. My best mate has gotten married, and I have to give a speech. Now, what can you say about a man who is quickly rising to the very top of his profession based solely on intelligence, grit, and the willpower to push on where others might fail? A man who is beginning to distinguish himself amongst his peers and where no‐one can say a bad word against him? A man who is so _unbearably_ handsome that it's quite unfair on the rest of mankind." He raised a glass to the groom.

"Anyway... that's enough about me. I'm here to talk about Charles." There were more laughs and whoops as he hammed it up for the crowd and Charles groaned from his place at the top table, shaking his head again.

"I digress. Now that I've taken the piss out of them both, I can get straight to the point. The first time Charles and Molly ever laid eyes on each other, was just over three years ago, on a dancefloor, of all places."

"Oh. Shit-" he looked over at the table where Lieutenant Colonel Beck had been seated with his wife, his eyebrows raised in complete and utter surprise, whilst Charles and Molly both groaned in unison. "Didn't think this part through", he muttered under his breath. "-Sir, you'll probably want to shut your ears for this part of the story.." he continued as the guests awaited the remainder of his tale.

"_Anyway_. Charles and I were out on a double date with a couple of ladies. Not with the new Mrs James, I might add!"

This time it was Molly's turn to raise her eyebrows in surprise as she turned and looked directly at Charles.

_Oh god. Why did he make Chris his best man again? He should have learned from the last time. _

The guests howled with laughter as Chris picked up on the look passing between the newlyweds and pointed out "Don't worry Dawes, it was _my_ unwavering charm that these ladies were interested in!"

"We were on the double date, Charles was completely disinterested by the whole thing, quite embarrassing really, when suddenly, he started acting as if he'd been struck by lightning. He stared and stared into the distance. His mouth was hanging open like an idiot. I was beginning to think he'd had a stroke or something." Chuckles broke out around the room at the description.

"When I finally turned around, I realised just who he was staring at. _Molly Dawes._ And when we got a little nearer, she had exactly the same foolish, spaced out look on her face as she looked at Charles! It was clearly meant to be!" The guests let out an "awww" as Chris continued to recount his tale.

"Of course, things didn't run smoothly from then on. They _somehow_ managed to lose each other that night.." Charles raised his eyebrows at Chris, remembering _exactly_ why he had lost Molly; he had been too distracted rescuing his friend from a fight. Needless to say that part of the story had been omitted from the speech.

"The poor sod pined after her for 6 months without knowing her name and no way of finding her; it was quite unbearable really!" More "awws" emerged from the crowd, mainly from the women in attendance. Charles' cheeks tinged with pink as Molly kissed him briefly on the lips before turning her attention back to Chris.

"He headed off on a tour of Afghan, ready to get his head back together, and stop being such a bloody idiot, when, completely by chance, _a stroke of luck,_ his mystery girl turned up on tour in Afghanistan with him."

"Again, close your ears Sir" he aimed at Beck, who spluttered, and looked as though he might turn purple. Mrs Beck was chuckling knowingly at his side. "Despite all of the hiccups that it took for the two of them to finally get their act together, and _believe me, _there were plenty, they finally ended up exactly where they both belonged. These are my two favourite people in the whole world. And they are absolutely perfect for each other." The guests applauded the sentiment, and he waited for it to die down before continuing.

"-As Charles' best friend, I've seen him go through the hardest of times, and the best of times. Those best of times have only ever been when Molly has been by his side. Without a doubt, him meeting and falling in love with the new Mrs James, was one of the smartest decisions he's _ever_ made." Molly teared up and beamed at Chris until he inevitably ruined the moment. "It's second only, to choosing me as a best mate."

"Now, as a man who will drink to absolutely anything, it gives me immense pleasure to invite you all to be upstanding, raise your glasses and join me in a toast to my very best friend and his very beautiful new wife - because I think they were made for each other." He raised his glass in the air, gesturing towards the happy couple.

"Charles and Molly!" He raised his glass in a toast, as the remainder of the guests followed his lead.

"Charles and Molly" they chorused.

The newlyweds took a brief minute to study each other, Charles caressing Molly's cheek and bringing his lips to hers for a lingering kiss as the room toasted them.

:::

Later in the evening, the guests swirled around the dancefloor, enjoying what was left of the day. Chris had been correct in his speech; it was a truly beautiful wedding.

He took a moment to take in his surroundings as he surveyed the room. His mother was being whirled round the dancefloor enthusiastically by his new father-in-law. Dave had been one of the most vocal supporters of the wedding arrangements as soon as he realised he didn't have to contribute to the bill, despite his role as father of the bride. He had enjoyed the free bar a little too much, and spun Annabel around the dance floor, his mother giggling in response.

In the meantime, Belinda Dawes was being led onto the floor by Chris, an all-knowing, predatory look gleaming in his eyes as Belinda laughed at his jokes. Charles raised an eyebrow at his best man warningly, knowing he would have to keep an eye on _that particular situation._

Sam was also weaving in and out of the crowd, being tailed by Molly's siblings as they played chase, and he completed the obstacle course by racing her brother Josh, both on their knees, to slide across the polished dance floor.

He sighed happily for a moment. The day had gone completely to plan; it had been perfect. He was torn from his observations by Molly approaching. She looked as stunning as the very first time he laid eyes on her, if not more so. Her hair cascaded in thick loose waves around her shoulders, and she wore a fitted, A line gown, with a high waist. It was so very Molly. She had shunned the 'big meringues' as she had called them, for a more simple dress, which suited her down to the ground.

As she walked towards him, he had a sudden sense of déjà vu, an uncanny flashback to the moment they first laid eyes on each other, when he had stared at her from afar, taking in every single bit of her beauty, and locking it away in his brain without her knowledge. She continued to recreate his memories of that night as she walked towards him, leaving him gaping at the effect she continued to have on him.

She made her way over to him, their eye contact never faltering as she moved, when all of a sudden, she had closed the gap between them. She stood in front of him, grinning at the adoring look on his face.

"Hi" he breathed, his tone low and husky.

"Hi" she responded, beaming at him happily.

Unlike their first meeting, there was no awkwardness, although they still couldn't stop staring at each other. Recreating her first ever moment of body contact with him, all those years ago, Molly grabbed his hand, and led him toward the dance floor. His head spun with the memories, as the flashback played out in his head at the exact same time as they moved now, totally in sync with the memory.

_She let go of his hand, turning round to face him. He looked down as she weaved her arms round his neck, both swaying in time to the music. He placed his hands on her hips, pulling her even closer to him and taking care to close any tiny gap of space between them as their moulded bodies moved in perfect time to the rhythm of the song._

She had changed his life that night, and she had continued to do so for as long as he had known her. She watched his thoughtful face closely as he closed his eyes and enjoyed the memory, and the recreation of it right now.

_His hands moved round to her back, one hand weaving its way through her long hair, and the other resting at the base of her spine. He rubbed it gently with his fingers as they moved together.  
><em>  
>"What are you thinking about?" She wondered at the marvelling expression on his face.<p>

"This. It's exactly the same moment as the first time we met, the first dance we ever had. I danced with you before I even knew your name." He reminisced once more.

Her eyes lit up at the memory. _He was right._

"Well let's just hope you don't lose me this time" she joked, one eyebrow raised.

He smiled, holding her close in his arms as he whispered, "I didn't lose you that night. It was just the first step in finding you."

"You're so cheesy!" she joked, before adding her next point. "You know" she ventured mischievously, "there is one big difference to the first time we met." He looked at her, mystified.

"I haven't had one single drink." She whispered in his ear, referring to their secret. It was only for their ears, a private secret, one which held so much joy. They weren't ready to share that one with anybody else. _Not yet_. He placed a tender hand on her abdomen, beaming with happiness.

Another thought occurred to Molly. "Although. If you are trying to recreate that moment, then you know what you need to do now, don't you?" She teased him as they moved in time to the music, looking at him with lust in her eyes.

"You, Mrs James, are a tease."

She grinned. "Only to my husband. You gonna hurry up and kiss me then, or do I need to snog you myself?"

He returned the grin and continued to recreate the moment, the memory coming back to him full force as he played it out for her.

_His hand moved from her hair to her face, caressing the smooth skin on her face as he studied those green eyes, heavy with what he recognised as lust. He lowered his mouth to hers as they continued to move._

_She hungrily accepted him as she deepened the kiss, drawing his tongue firmly into her mouth as she continued to hold her arms at the back of his neck, playing with the fine hairs on the nape of his neck._

Suddenly, the sound of smashing glass broke the moment as the music stopped. The moment had passed and they pulled apart, chests heaving with breathlessness, still staring at each other.

Another bang came from the commotion in the corner.

Neither had to turn around. They knew exactly what had happened.

"Chris!" they groaned in unison, as they both turned around to the prospect of Chris being set upon by none other than Dave Dawes.

The memory was complete, all factors restored. Only this time, there would be no losing each other.

Mr and Mrs James were together.

_Forever_.


End file.
